Chinese Poem

                


I have perfected the wrong
kind of singing for your opera.
Why oh why did I ever believe
in a gay rodeo? Talk about stupid music!
You bring me food tonight.
You know it will grow cold,
but don't complain. You smile.
I love looking in the bag,
the two containers, one profuse
with earth's richness--
noodles, shrimp, oils, water chestnuts
and so much more. The other
a plain white bed. Humble rice.
Heaven and earth!
Oh, those sly Chinese!
We both know I don't
deserve you. I won't deserve
you all the way to the grave
and that's so sad. It's my vocation
now, not deserving you.
It's not funny. I notice
the otherworldly, young girl
who works the counter threw
in so many fortune cookies
it's ridiculous. It must
be the economy. Everybody
is trying. Throwing magic
at a problem rarely works,
but sometimes it will.
And I'm a big believer in
sometimes. Sometimes is
the religion of fools and devils.
The Church might be there
when you visit sometimes,
and other times you just find
a vacant lot. There's no strict
attendance policy. Our
congregation is growing
at an alarming rate.