When the Pentecostal party is over,
the Jack-in-the-box God is pushed
back in the box, all the while wriggling
and springing to get free. A week later
we try to solve the cryptic Trinity,
then shove that back into its drawer,
and the long green Sundays of summer succeed.
O Jack-in-the-box, O dancing shamrock God,
how much we miss, how much we need you now.
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