On Certain Cloudy Days
It’s not like I wait on the roof
in a bed sheet, or lease a 7 Series
confident I’ll never make a payment,
but on certain cloudy days I think
about the Rapture and listen
for the bleat of distant trumpets.
Then for a crazy second I see
myself from the outside
as I vanish, everything around me
just as it is, trembled
in the breeze of an eye blink.
And I wonder who will wonder
where I’ve gone.