The Chinese girl

Always fell asleep if she drank beer.

So in the evening we sat

In the cafe beside her campus,

Talking over coffee.

The door kept blowing open

With a parade of red face students,

All thin and puckered up from the cold.

We discussed our parents,

Our respective states,

Our histories and mythology.

What was difficult for her

Was not the miracles or the plagues

Or even the water turning into wine

But the fantastical idea that one man

Would throw it all in for the sake of this world.

Harder to picture, she said,

Than four armed gods or elephant heads.

I didn't know, I say.

The waiter would bring over more coffee

Before we'd finish the last.

Outside emaciated looking men

Clutched their jackets and begged for change,

Staring into pitiless winds.