Living water

The drying wind

tore the leaves

off the sycamore trees

and pinned the pages

of a checkout rack tabloid

against the cyclone fence

that bounded the edge

of the liquor store parking lot.

The strobe lit faces

of a senior senator and

a skanky tik tok influencer

in a skimpy tank top,

fluttered in sync

with the withered ivy

that encrusted the wires

of the fence.

She was beaming,

he looked scared.

I turned my collar up around

the back of my neck and looked

up to the wind-feathered

clouds of Heaven.

If Heaven's eyes looked

down at the Earth now, 

would the ground tremble?

If God touched the hills

would they become smoke?

A man with the face

of someone aged by years

of pain sat on the pavement

next to the wall of the store.

Asked me if I could spare

a couple dollars,

said he was thirsty.

Jesus said to the multitude

that if you believe in him

your heart will flow

with a river of living water.

I gave the man a five

and my thirst was quenched.