The old guy put down his beer. <br />Son, he said, <br />(and a girl came over to the table where we were: <br />asked us by Jack Christ to buy her a drink.) <br />Son, I am going to tell you something <br />The like of which nobody was ever told. <br />(and the girl said, I've got nothing on tonight; <br />how about you and me going to your place?) <br />I am going to tell you the story of my mother's <br />Meeting with God. <br />(and I whispered to the girl: I don't have a room, <br />but maybe...) <br />She walked up to where the top of the world is <br />And He came right up to her and said <br />So at last you've come home. <br />(but maybe what? <br />I thought I'd like to stay here and talk to you.) <br />My mother started to cry and God <br />Put His arms around her. <br />(about what? <br />Oh, just talk...we'll find something.) <br />She said it was like a fog coming over her face <br />And light was everywhere and a soft voice saying <br />You can stop crying now. <br />(what can we talk about that will take all night? <br />and I said that I didn't know.) <br /> <br /> <br />You can stop crying now.<br /><br />Kenneth Patchen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/do-the-dead-know-what-time-it-is/
