Claiming Sanctuary in the Bathroom Stall

God is drunk in the bathroom again
And she is spitting holy scripture
into the toilet bowl
In between rips off her elf bar
Lemon mint flavor slightly burnt
God only likes the good ones
She gets them from the gas station down the road
Blesses the cashier on her way out
Chugs the Four Loko she bought
but leaves the can on the curb
She swears up and down
She hates people who litter
But God is a firm believer in the sidewalk slammer
And she doesn’t understand hypocrisy

Switching places
God is holding your hair back when its your turn
She has your lipstick in her purse
You never asked her to hold it
But she’s here and she’s whispering
Don’t worry doll we can fix your makeup
It’s better to vomit here
than on the shoes of that boy
And you don’t know
how she knows
That there was a boy at all
But something in her eyes wraps you tight
An embrace that only comes with understanding
She feels like a thousand lived moments
A chorus of shared experience
But the whiskey fills your mind with cotton
So you only notice that God smells like Chanel no. 5
And her roots don’t show

Finally standing taller
God is giving you a pep talk
She’s slurring her words but even in spite of that
It sounds like a Sunday sermon
Sounds like holy water rushing to your ears
She exalts your ego
Raising you up in the flickering light
Of the club bathroom
Until
You start to think she’s right
Maybe you are the hottest girl in this club
Maybe you can find a hundred identical men
Maybe there is salvation waiting for you
At the bottom of your next drink

God tucks your hair behind your ear
Cleanses your soul with the blotting cloths
and the makeup wipes from her oversized purse
She pulls out an evaporated nature valley bar
And spills half of it into the bottom of her bag
You take the crumbs like a covenant
And let her baptize you in the sink water
Wiping the wicked sweat from your brow
You are made anew
Born in her image of the eyeliner
Drawn with shaking hands

She cuts a line on the counter
Snorts it with a two dollar bill
Hands it to you with a smile
The kind that makes you feel warm
Crashes down on your synapses
Like blinding holy light
Her laugh like seven trumpets
Signaling the end of your sanity
You know
You’ll dream of Gods smile
You know
You’ll spend your life desperately remembering
Her hand in your hair

-D.V