Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Adoramus te

They lower their voices

If they think I’m listening.

But I know about God

He smells Like that damp basement

In our neighbor’s house

I'm afraid of

And I don’t know why

Or the preacher’s robes

When I have to shake his hand

And I don’t want to

Or that new family

Down the block

With funny names and kids

We shouldn’t play with.

(They go to a different school)

Or the two old guys

In the green house

We’re not supposed to talk to

Even though they’re nice.

Every night at dinner

We pray together

For god to bless us

And not be angry


d nova said...

damn, cap!

i didn know u wr a poet.

glad i happened 2 scroll down the pg.

Capt. Fogg said...

I'm not sure I am, but thanks!