The Golem of Los Angeles

The Sermon on God

88 The Sermon on God 1. The Mirror Psalm i had a dinner with a woman mad for God. i told her i have learned to walk without a crutch. She told me i was made to look like him but i have always thought he has my nose. So am i God’s worst blunder or is he mine? She told me i should raise my children in my image. That’s bad taste, it seems to me. She talked about surrender and resignation, prudence, diligence, but i preferred her company, her style to his, the sweetness in her clear eyes. Still, i might believe in God if he could dance, a God who’s learned to laugh, a God like this young woman i press into for a kiss. 2. What’s Your Damage? God made a big noise in the world and then kicked off, and since then we’ve been going medieval on each other. A scientist replaces a cow’s side with a plastic wall so he can see its four stomachs digesting. That’s my metaphor for something. Here we are in East Bumblefuck, living if you can call it that at the spit-out butt-end of the universe, and thinking we’re God’s gift. of course we go bitchcakes when we find we’re not. 89 Everybody considers dying important, but big whup. We’re all smelling ripe. We should learn to die. Sorry, no beer-goggles for this nihilist poet, let me munch out on the green sweet grass. i don’t want to be looking when that nasty frat boy Death comes cow-tipping. Look at these ants eating cat-droppings in the litter box. Just try to be perfect as an animal. 3. Riding the Crotch Rocket Sometimes the world will beat seven shades of shit out of you before you brush your teeth, but some days like today i am happy to be kicking it in this janky universe, riding my crotch rocket through the suburbs, even though God or whatever seems to be off somewhere dicking the dog. Here’s a thought, i’m coming to an intersection, and sex and death are a perfect rhyme. Here’s a thought, a stop sign red as new blood, and mister D is waiting to jump our bones. Here’s a thought, it’s all too mondo bizarro, the old gods lying buried beneath the sprinkler system, the wheel of the sky revolving around the stargazer. Here’s a thought, i need love like a heart-attack but i’m still jonesing for it. And the sign, after all, says Yield. ...