God Watching

I went into the club looking for god.
Someone said he left two drinks ago.
You won’t find him in here,
maybe I should go.

But this is a twelve-pound excursion,
cheap diluted beer and free delusions.
He’ll be back, someone said,
stay for the longed absolution.

So I stayed for the longed absolution.
I cast my eyes to the floor and saw
pilgrim shadows weeping on their knees
cry for the missed purgation.

I raise them to the ceiling —
purgatorial arms crisscrossing grasp
at flashing strobe lights hung lowly
flash once the weeping eye of god.

But why so soon, god, are you leaving
when it feels so good to be dying?
Pressed between warm bodies
that hide me from myself.

Maybe I should go.
But I stayed for the absolution.