I WISH I WAS A PRAYING WOMAN
For all the world's woeful, purple imperatives,
for integrals, for plum-sucking female cops,
for pulchritude as some bozo's unpretty word, for every
lame and sorry excuse, supernal stupidity,
purebred dog, I push myself from a cluttered table,
assured that the worst is still to come.
Two bunnies under a truck, we expected
the town to be busy. And it was. And we sure
paid for it, like groupies over a dirty tab.
I was down on my luck and up from the snow
and the parking lot was tragic. Unforgivable
tea leaves, a lot to lose in so little time.
But I'm nobody's Abigail, and I'm nobody's
Joan. For all the nights I spent wanting you
to fight off vapid angels, the heavens are
spending big money, big money, forever
so far off, or gone, that faith makes a break
for it once and for all.
Winter is pointless if you're not getting laid.