a conversation
in all the years I knew him, we never did that
man to man, quiet, truth thrown on the table
like cards after a poker hand
whenever we spoke, I recognized the preacher
lying to me again and shut him out
politely waited for the words to stop
and guessed whether to say "unh-hunh"
or just nod, either way let him finish
whatever he had started on
once he acknowledged that he knew
"you haven't heard a word I said"
I grinned and admitted "not since the sermon started"
he looked away, silent a while
then told me of the church he attended then
I listened and asked questions
until I heard the preacher coming on again
maybe that day I recognized
he couldn't help it
that was the way he talked to people
I don't know if that's true
when I was young and heard him
he always was their preacher
or an invited preacher
so it made sense
was appropriate
for him to preach to them
maybe there was no way to retire from it
no path back to the world I knew
maybe he was stuck forever
out on that rock in the stream
telling the waters where to go
knowing they'd go on as they pleased
obeying him or not and unconcerned
and maybe he knew too that people
however reverently they listened
flowed on around him
regardless of his words
running where nature demanded
and their helplessness let them
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