A Cautionary Tale
Mops his brow and, winded, pants,
"It is a sin to carouse, gamble and drink,
But even worse to dance."
That is the word, but just then a bird
Flies in and cracks Jim in the skull;
After turning the page, he falls off the stage
And dies, creating a lull.
Deacon Don frowns, throws himself on the ground,
And cries, "Jesus has called our Jim home!"
Is there something celestial about a disoriented kestrel
That flew in and did in his dome?
Like a helium balloon, Jim's soul rose through the room,
Toward the voice of a late pop diva;
He passed Hottentots and Hindus, sitting in the windows,
And three shiksas who kindly sat shiva.
He rose up and found God in the Heavenly place,
Cutting a rug with some woman named Bubbles;
Jim saw He was a She, and mumbled "Dear me,
This is only the start of my troubles."
The natural fact is, there's a Heaven for Baptists,
Though it's not clear why anyone goes there;
Everything's gray, and nobody's gay,
And the angels have quite disturbing nose hair.
Meanwhile, Jim's flock got over their shock,
And buried him out in the churchyard;
But kids dug him up and that night set him up
On a flaming pyre of birch bark.
So ends my tale of the church on the plain,
Jim is gone and his body is toasted;
His name is now written in Heavenly fame,
Though there's a rumor that says it was ghosted.
artwork: "Archy & Mehitabel" by Don Marquis