Angel Hair

If there was a god,
I would curse it for the gnats
of metal that gets stuck in
your eye and the strands of
angel hair barbed wire fence
where shadows of my friends sleep.

If I was god,
I would spit into the wind so the glue of creation lands on my face, sticking to branches and barnacles along the way.

If your mother was god,
You’d all get straight A’s,
smoke pot only occasionally, and have a steady job that pays for a nice retirement condo and loads
of smirking grandbabies.

If there was a god,
I still wouldn’t buy it.
Too convenient.

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