Bubbles in Traffic

what I think God does

Worried people on Friday
Hurried people decide they
Will begin the revolution later than
They had anticipated: but I began

Man is born to bubbles as the troubles fly upward
And nothing quite answers the question like the absurd

If my stony-pop specificity
Is lost on everybody else but me
At least I have not eaten them in vain
That tan the homeless never meant to get
Is also mine now though not homeless (yet)

Now as I begin revolution again
Worried people on Saturday
Hurried people stop by and say
Thank you for the bubbles and the magic of
My crazy little revolution of love

Worried people on Sunday
Hurried people for Monday
Stop worrying stop hurrying just for now with me
Come contemplate these bubbles I create to set free

Which is what I think God does (or at least it could be)

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII