Stopping for a beer, on the road to Damascus

there's water coming in
under the door
as the wind
whips the windows
in a minor key

I'm looking at
the water
spreading
and looking filthy
I wonder
where it's been before

I should be doing
something
to keep it
from coming in
but somehow
I'm thinking of Saul
in his dungeon
writing in bare
cold feet
but so far away
from bonfires
bullets and
burning flags
cartoon wars and
badly drawn
cartoon preachers

I'll really have
to keep the water
from coming in
but somehow
I'm not surprised
anymore
at how filthy
it is

Into starlight.