Playing God

And I find myself sitting,

watching how ants react to shadows

cast down by my fingers,

but I haven’t figured out, yet,

what makes them change direction,

or if I even matter,

sitting here above their routes.

But I’m very much here in the present

with the power to abruptly end their aimless,

collective sense of purpose,

but something greater makes me hold onto

the boot in my left hand,

and continue to simply watch them go

back and forth without a clue,

and I ask myself if that’s what God is doing,

sitting high above,

amazed by how focused we are on doing

all the senseless nothings

that occupy our senses so completely

that we ignore all the proof of his presence,

and abide by borders that are less real

than the shadows that he casts down

on the same ball that these ants have,

wondering when he should just

smash us—ants included—

with the boot in his left hand.

So I throw down some crushed saltine

crackers and move the boot

to my right.