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God Business And what were my reasons, again? I don't remember you. The days go on an extended monsoon season, but move away quickly-- objects in a review mirror. The sunbird above me casts its shadow in my eye, screaming at the wings. I work in a building all day God has no business in business is carved into every wall. I've watched the hand of a clock circle 25,000 times, each time I whisper the name of God. Tear it down, flatten this place, but God never does the same trick twice, doesn't perform on command or charge an admission. God talks a perfect smooth riddle, a shiny black stones, the kind you find on beaches and slip slyly into your pocket. God sleeps in a circle we sometimes count on but rarely understand.
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