Fingers Touching God

Frost on my eyes
my cheeks freeze to the concrete
I was told that God was warm
and everywhere
like light
or was it that light was
everywhere like God?
All I feel is cold night air
the wind snapping my ribs
It sinks its teeth into my
lungs and maybe that’s God too

Or maybe none of it is
and I’m out here
to return to the blank parts
of memories where nothing ever is
like being right on the tip of the tongue
for the rest of time

The Subway fluorescent light
switches on
the new north star
and the workers are behind the counter
on their phones and their fingers
are swiping on their screens
and I don’t remember the last time I held
someone’s hand or
let someone’s fingers run through my hair
or when I held someone at all

Now it’s just me and
God if he’s out here
but I don’t think he ever is
or ever was

sharkhead souvenirs on highway 90

dead sharks in a net
bloody teeth
ripped out with
pliers and strung
up on twine
to sell for 8.99
at the tourist trap
for no reason
but to make
little boys feel
powerful
as they clasp
them around
pale necks