begging for redemption

who hasn't outwitted the devil
every once and awhile
when he comes creeping
across the street in the dark
dancing
grinning
with his fingers
in his empty pockets
producing miracles
for simple souls
that look like pot holes
holding rainbowed water

i like to wink right back
clap my hands
smoke a cigarette to the end
and say
i already traded my soul
for a name