Crank Call

Last night I got an obscene
phone call from
God.
Very hevay breathing,
Smelling of corpse rot,
sweet new born
Galaxies.
He said He was lonely and
Wanted to talk.
"Forget it, Buster." I said,
"I've been to the packing house,
Seen people moving on the
Conveyor belts.
This game is rigged,
No way out.
I want nothing to do with
Your figments!"

He said He was watching me,
And that I had lovely feet,
Exquisitely formed.
Said He could always see me,
And that my nose was a miracle.

I hung up,
Put on a towel,
And closed the drapes.