Thursday, February 23, 2017

God Drives My Bus

God is laughing because he's tired of crying.
God is not a Virgo. He doesn't send me a bitchy e-mail
telling me,"Misti, my darling idiot, you were WRONG for that."
God is not a Capricorn. He doesn't keep score.
God is not a Pisces. He doesn't steal your vodka
then puke all over your Navajo rug.
God damn sure isn't an Aquarian.
He just isn't.
God is not a Sagittarius. He doesn't strum a guitar
and fuck dumb women who use the word "rad."
"Gee, God. Your dick is, like, literally RAD."
God is not an Aries. He doesn't get you drunk
then fuck you up the ass without so much
as a dab of Vaseline.
God is not a Scorpio.
He doesn't fuck with your mind
and try to teach you how to sell books
when his "true crime" book has zero reviews
at fucking amazon.
God is not a Gemini.
Trust me on this.
God is not a Leo.
He could be. But he has no hair.
God is not a Cancer.
He isn't drowning his sorrows
in a Mexican bar.
He lacks a mouth, hands, all the
biological essentials.
God is not a Taurus.
He doesn't eat at Bill Miller's.
And no, ninos.
God ain't a Libra.
He doesn't tell you to shut the fuck up
because the neighbors are listening
and bitch... you CRAZY.

God drives my bus
and I don't always
enjoy the ride.
I often tell God
I wish he would buy me
a bitchin' Camaro.
God gives me spears of asparagus
and I cry because I'm in the mood
for sprinkled donuts
and spicy fried chicken.
God tells me to turn off the television
and read a fucking book.
"But God. I'm tired. Mis ojos are bleeding."
"Stop being such a pussy, gringa."
God commands me to celebrate Pi Day
when I'm still hungover from Mardi Gras.
God kicks my ass into the middle of next week
and I wake up in Omaha
and suddenly hot damn
I'm some kind of fashion consultant.
God is gay and energetic
and reminds me a helluva lot
of my Uncle Greg.
"No sleeping in the Metroplex, Misti Velvet."
It's 1991 again and I'm thinking I'm gonna shine
harder than Julia Roberts in that elevator.
It's 1995 and I'm winning in Vegas.
God the choleric extrovert
pushes me the melancholy introvert
through the looking glass
and wheeee. Surprise.
I'm Alice in la la land
and don't know the code.
"Business as usual," I tell the Mad Hatter
after a cup of tepid Great Value tea.
He replies in Japanese.
He replies in German.
He replies in Spanish.
I scream in rainbow.

God says,"Finally, baby doll. I think you get it."

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