Nowhere Near the Sea

On that day that God came to him,

I can see Noah sitting under a tree,

eating a sandwich,

lettuce hanging out of his mouth.

Yes, lettuce and crumbs on the belly and he startled.

Round-bellied Noah,

six hundred years old and talking to God,

mouth full of sandwich and lettuce,

no water on hand;

I wish I was there.

Thinking God crazy,

and himself,

he decided to build the big boat anyway,

do what God said,

even having never seen rain in his six hundred years

nor the sea.

I do wonder what his friends said of him,

and his family,

with such a story.

After it was over,

his friends were dead.

Maybe their ridicule was left in his ears,

maybe.

Its those kind of I told you so moments that are really bitter,

them all being dead,

though I wouldn’t know.

When all was dry,

and the beasts gone their own ways,

Noah got drunk,

woke up hungover and

cursed a son for clothing him in the night.

Out of the son’s apparent rashness, American chattel slavery.

This is many years later though.

The crazy part to me is still the boat,

not the slaves.

This big boat built in the middle of a dry land,

and the builder, having never seen rain.

This is the third rule of business, son:

build the damn boat,

even if you think God is crazy.

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