lake geneva

you are crouched before the fire in a state park by the highway and through the heavy pine trees ten-ton trucks go groaning by

like the screams of your aunt barbara who went crazy in the '70's

wrote poems to jimmy carter but forgot to feed her kids

but

it's the first time you're together since he got out of the hospital

raccoons in the darkness drag off your hot dogs buns

but

you're happy just to lie there in a plastic tent from wal-mart like sticks and fallen dead leaves to feed the fire of the world

because which is more important

to comfort an old woman or see visions of the heavens in the stumps of fallen trees?

albert einstein trembled when he saw that time was water

seeping through the rafters to put out this burning world

next morning you're at waffle house

toast and eggs and hash browns

truckers chain-smoke camels over plastic cups of juice

and you remember how he cried when they strapped him to the stretcher

convinced his arms were burning with electricity from heaven

you remember how he told you that black holes were like jesus

and the crucifix was a battery that filled the air with fire.