Gone with the World
God was palpably present in the country,
and the devil had gone with the world to town. Thomas Hardy
We drive down to the city
when we can no longer bear
paradise. We’re just not good
enough to sit in the perfect
room Gods and evolution made
so perfectly for us.
Bent on mischief and sport,
we spend more than we can afford;
our heads turned by bright trifles
and the un-kegged laughter
of beer and whiskey poured.
We lend our voices, loud and louder,
to stories and songs with teeth
but no nail-biting.
We make toasts and coax
out every churlish notion and burlesque,
every rumor and nastiness
that might keep the bow rosined.
But alas, last call comes and so we go;
the door locking behind us.
Outside, the deserted streets
are so quiet we hear the hum
of the light above us and our steps
struggling back toward grace.
Even as drunkenness fades,
we remain uncertain of the way,
wary of the world’s fragile state
and our unsteady place in it.