Three Guys in a Bar

The three of us sit in a booth at the back
Of a bar that's filled with louts and tarts,
And row upon row of blaring TVs.
God says he's fed up. It's clear that he's
Failed. “I suppose that I tried to make
Men in my image, but look at these people.
They're nothing like me, stupid, oblivious,
Slaves to their hormones. It's almost as if
I'd assigned something lowly, bacteria,
Maybe, to make them for me.”
Pygmalion snorts, “You could have done
Worse. I made a woman of marble for me.
She is cold and hard, not much of a lover.”
“There's the one I made,” I say, and I point
At a woman who sits with her mother and
Friends. “She is shallow and petulant,
No one worth having, but I, briefly, molded
Her into my love, and I got her feel as if
She needed me.” God looks up, smiles,
And says, “But she's gone?” I say, “See
For yourself. I'm like you. I'm invisible”
Pygmalion laughs, takes the check, and
He pays. Then the three of us leave,
Defeated creators, brought down by
The junk we have made.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 64 times
Written on 2016-10-25 at 01:31

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