vacation bible school

the beach is covered with god.
little paper umbrellas made of psalms.
today's scripture is you & you are made of heat.
we line up in a hallway of forest noise.
the neon lights overhead
bleed green & blue. we are on vacation 
in babylon, in galilee, in canaan.
outside the rest of the world forgets 
both god & children. they are going to
the great fireplace. they are going neon 
& naughty & never again. 
the bible's thin pages 
taste sweet like they were pressed 
in sugar. i lick an open bible
without anyone noticing. this is vacation
i can do what i need to.
the ocean has too many whales.
there is a lie in the back of everyone's mouth
though none of us are sure what it is.
we will play a game where we try to guess
each other's most common sin.
i guess you don't listen to you parents?
the boy says, no, i covet my neighbor's house. 
i tell the boy that's not that bad
i covet my neighbor's wife. in another game 
we take turns praying in silence.
we take turns asking god for strange things
hoping we will answer one. i ask god 
for grass to smell louder. i ask god
to never leave vacation. i ask to become
an everlasting vacation. i ask for a blue bicycle.
i ask for a mat to sleep on 
so i can live in the bible. the bible
is soft & unknowable. i tell the bible
that it is my god. its words turn to locusts
that swarm below the ceiling. there is
no one left in the whole school.
learning is a process of forgetting 
ambiguity. god never talks to me
but i talk to him. he has plans 
for the summer. he will visit us all here
one day & he will smack a beach ball.
he will read a story from the great book.
for now, i am sun burnt & shaking.
i am barefoot. i am walking on water
in the bathroom sink.