A fun game I like to play sometimes
on the Q or B or any other train
is to pretend that the person
seated across from me
disguised in human form
which begs the question
on this particular Thursday morning,
of all the many holy robes
and clothing options lining the racks
in the infinity walk-in closet
that is Heaven,
why on earth is God wearing
a lime green velour tracksuit
with red pumps on her feet
and a Yankees hat atop her head?
Why is God so goddamn tacky today?
Perhaps the Lord overslept, kept
slamming the snooze as we all do
until such time that God had no choice
but to throw on old clothes,
rise and begin again?
Or maybe God is the businessman
in the sharply-pressed navy suit
with matching crimson tie
as crisp as a red delicious –
God with his earbuds plugged in,
God blocking out everyone,
God half-asleep and half-engaged
in the playing of some silly
barrel-throwing video game
that matters tremendously
but only to the monkeys on the screen?
Perhaps God’s the tattered bum
who claimed the north end
of the subway car for himself,
giving off a foul stench while we mere mortals
huddle together and steer clear?
But maybe God is you –
I’m serious now –
just you, reading, breathing a little,
and what I want to know is,
will you be benevolent
seated on your throne made of cloud?
will one day cry out in sound or in silence,
disguised as a person –
an aging parent or mewling infant,
a lover or stranger or colleague in crisis –
and what will you do then, God?
Don’t forget us then, God.
Say that you’ll say what we want most to hear:
It’s okay. It will be okay. I’m here.
The road is obstinate
In its topography
As well as its irregular use of lights and signs
Some parts are smooth pavement
Easy and evenly laid
With an overabundance
Of overhead highway lamps
It bends into curves
All wild and unruly
And the rain and the darkness
So much so
That you may begin to feel
A fear or chill in your back or bones
You may get lost
You might shiver a little
But remember that
The light is always coming again
Either the ones on the side of the road
Who help to see what’s ahead for a while
Or the big one waiting at the end
And in the meantime
You just keep right on going
Exactly where you were going all along
Josh Lefkowitz won the 2013 Wergle Flomp Humor poetry contest. He has had poems published in Court Green, The Hairpin, and elsewhere. He has performed a pair of one-man shows in theaters across the country. He lives in Brooklyn.