God at the Bus Stop

Walking at midnight
Fragile in the rain,
I watch the streetlamps sway
And the headlights gleam
Along the lonely avenue.

Feeling alone
As the gentle poems
Drift in and out
Of dark bars
And all-night
Party store parking lots,
I write my soul
On the page of the city.

Everything is salvation
Mingled with sadness;
I wait for God at the bus stop.