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The trouble with looking like a God becomes clear after we learn to wear our mask of omnipotence, pretending to know the answers to questions...
“What do your patients see when they look at you? They see a God!”
The trouble with looking like a God
becomes clear after we learn to wear
our mask of omnipotence, pretending
to know the answers to questions
as small as a milligram and as large
as death. Joan Osborne wrote a song
about meeting God on the subway,
just another rumpled, gray commuter
without a seat, grasping the overhead rail.
And I believe I met him today
at the general store, seated behind
the counter, sipping coffee, Mozart
on the radio, his expression like mine
when I shuffle papers piled on my desk.
I ask where to find a flyswatter,
but he doesn’t have a clue, and he can’t
tell me when the eggs will be in
or the price of the Times. At peace
with his ignorance, he smiles before he
lifts the paper cup to his lips, the light
in his eyes forgiving my questions,
like a God.