by cwilso

Have you ever seen God make spaghetti?
Probably not, he’s only done it once in his life.
His tools were arranged in his kitchen well
The cilantro, the sauce, the knife.

And God was lovely at many things
But pasta remained among the few
Of things
That he created
But
Things he never knew

And so in the white kitchen
Behind those pearly gates
He worked himself
Into quite a fit

Until around finally
He threw some pasta on the wall
Praying
He hoped it would stick.

And on that fateful day
What stuck to the tapestry
1969, the fall
Would manifest itself
On God’s play thing
His seemingly large
Blue and green bouncy ball

So when he looked up
To see what had stuck
He whispered to himself
Oh me!

Look what I have done!
Look what’s become of the swinging nineteen
Seventies!

For on the wall
Was a sight to behold
One of great grandeur and delusion
Of lust and sex
Of sin and zen
One of chaotic confusion

Flared pants
Bare skin
New found Religion
Limbs tangled under the moonlight

Cocaine
Great pain
Patty Hearst
Bobby Dane
Demons that would put up a fight

Bumping beats
Quick feet
Red and orange color schemes
Young men and women
Ready to risk it all
Creation had found a new kind of god
Twirling underneath a disco ball

But God wasn’t mad
For what great fun they would have
Getting dizzy under a sphere
Of perfection.

And so he made the humans on Earth
His abandoned middle child
They were his one sole exception.

Why?

Look what splat against that wall!

Freaks, geeks
Divas, hippies
The rich, the poor
The specs
The color, the skin
The fire, the ice
The wind, the air
The sex
The skates, the hair
The boots, the fros
And everything in between

It was God’s free-for-all
And we were its kings and queens

So come on, now
God won’t take but a glance
Come one
Come all
Come gyrate under the ball
Let’s do it all,
Let’s dance!

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