Prayer

God of Jacob!
I know you can hear me!
Odysseus!
I know you cheated death
and have crossed my path.
I need you now!

You see, I am dying.
I am not smart enough
to do my work with all
these distractions
and encumbrances.
I need some of what you got.

Some of that wrestling juju.
Some of that mendacious charm.
Some of that fancy-footed
ability to make a deal
while the sink's full of dishes
and the sun is shining
and the kids're failing math.
Some of that cock-sure strut,
like wearing yellow without
my pink skin crawling with shame.

God! Last with me this work day!
Odysseus! C'mon, brother!
I really need you! I shit you not!
I can't bend this bow! I can't
get past the one-eyed merciless
sentry of government! I can't
get my shit together! I really
want to DO something!

If you two could just take
a break from whatever God-like
administration or avventura or
whatever you're doing and
help me get the dishes done,
or rain fire on my enemies,
or go to bat for me at the I.R.
fucking S. I would be able
to get something meaningful
done before I die.

Please!

Amen.

Love, Van. You know my number,
or how to find it.