S.I.N (ships, in hope, none)

The drunken priest in the Walmart parking lot
last night with crossed over eyes and a line
of gray snot lining his face
fumbled and pointed to the rainbow
on the chic 2010 Prado model--
God's promise, he said.

The belly dancer on the cruise
last week from whom I averted my eyes
and faced the deck motion-sick,
the booze-jock touching my shoulder
slouching and vomiting on my shoes--
God's promise, I said.

The Prado engine whirring
with the priest and me stuffed 
in the back seat, the belly dancer
flashing across my eyes
and the ocean rising upon the cruise,
up my throat, my tear-ducts
us swarming in rainbows and music
and disarming lights, drowning--
God's promise, He said.