(You Are Here) The Cruelest Month
by Gene van Troyer

They say it's April, and  you're sick of hearing about the beyond,
but that's all they seem to have to sell from the home religion shopping channel, until you
think maybe you'd prefer getting lost
in a mall in Carmel, California. You are not feeling lucky at all.
You feel like you're some kind of web page on the intranet
of your nervous system, where you follow the link that reads
"Click here for a snappy little interview I had with God,"
but when you get there all you see is a 404 alert that says,
"Page not found on server" and you wonder if you are really logged in.

It's April and things are cruel. Life and love is exploding with Spring
and it all seems so cruel. Through the webcams in your skull you see
that Jesus is a celebrity sipping daiquiries by the pool, his manicure
showing no signs of his life as a carpenter. He's a webmaster
tending your page and he has the link: "Click here
for a snappy little interview I had with God":
JC: You are simply drawn to them?
G: No, it's never conscious. Is that daiquiri any good?
JC: You are in what looks like a pretty bad space.
G: Is it that they are simply drawn to Me?
JC: Well, it's never unconscious.

You really wonder if you are logged into your own page and try to post a blog 
         response
questioning God and His Celebrity Son,
but the host bounces you like a drop-kicked pong ball: "Your message
does not comply with Netiquette  Guideline #1: Never ask why.
You have been unsubscribed. Click here if you have any questions
and a customer service rep will reply in order of message receipt."

No, it’s never conscious. You are just one unhappy person multiplied
countless times. And here you thought, when that poet said,
"April is the cruelest month," he meant the weather in England.
He meant your current user ID is you and you are logged in as you,
but you have forgotten your password and had better not log out
and pray the system doesn't crash because you only get one.

You can't write it down, but don't lose it. It is the cruelest month
and you are sick of the pomp and ornate mystery of the beyond
and just want access to something here and now,
but you can't quite remember that password you couldn't write down.
It glows in your corrupted memory like coals
half reduced to ash. "If you are a returning user," says the link,
"click here." But all you get is a flash movie of Jesus
flicking pong balls like spit wads into the Celebrity Pool.

You realize they are unspoken words. If you are looking for
a serious activity for this April, fish them out and try to read them.
They may be that snappy little interview you had with God.