Dinner at 80

Barking thunder
from the dogs of heaven.
There is no help
behind the fence.
Don't stop,
it only upsets them.
Don't go in.
Pretend they're nice doggies.

It's the ability
to lie
that makes some
want to go in.

Whispering to the owner
won't help any.
Yelling, too.
The owner has these dogs
for a reason.
Their barking covers up
all the begging and pleading
believers manage to do
since they started walking
by the gate.,
It's the way
the owner wants it.
Glance, but never stare.

There is an invitation
though hard to get
when the owner
steps out to shop
only to run into someone
next to the frozen peas.

True applicants to heaven
have to be clever
about the package
or something they see
gODD is wearing.
If they only get a smile
it's failure.
Next time:
wait near the Jell-o,
gODD always needs Jell-o.
After all,
how many Jell-o salads
does one see at a large gathering
of religious ladies
from the circles?

Better still,
sit near the toys for dogs,
wear an unusual hat,
a cat skin,
and let a parrot
perch on your shoulder.
Let gODD start
the conversation.
It may be as simple as
“What do you think
of spaghetti
with your dog food?

Now we know
why religious Republicans
want the old
to eat what their government
serves them.
If you are old
and smell delicious to a dog,
the old won't get
to the front door
of heaven.


Barry G. Wick