Rolling by the Window…

It’s the blur of things, the
leaning shoulder against the window
of a bus speeding past
rebellion running on a slick street in
in the form of a young guy and girl seeking
to find themselves
in the folds of the other
strangers in a rumbling city
of gold disguised as a dude buzz-cutting
a homeless man’s hair for free, for
life, liberty, and the pursuit of
a God whose empty throne looms
unbaptized by storm clouds
like a tree in a desert
whose sap feeds the children.