172. the powers that ain’t
the day God died
was pretty much like any other –
the sun came up
& stuff went down,
a bit of drizzle
here & there
nobody thought to ask
did He want flowers,
did He want to be buried, or cremated,
or what?
we tried to find someone
suitably worthy
to say a few kind words
but in the end
we settled on Bono –
maybe not the first choice
but WTF –
his heart’s in the right place
even if his head’s
up his arse
and in a way it’s quite poetic –
God gave us Bono
& we gave him right back –
a taste of His own medicine.
It’s been a week –
& like they said,
on the seventh day He rested –
but, to be honest,
I think He’s just abusing
the privilege now.