Patron Saint of Soda

God, with His

erring wedding rings, stares me downstairs to

infinity, into a coal night.

i pray to You God for freedom

from paper as i am addicted

to writing this thing.

editing and altering and screwing with it

must be more addictive than diet pepsi.

i am the patron saint of soda.

teachers sin blessedly

and principles bless sinfully.

both have wavering voices,

TaLkInG lIkE tHiS,

implying they drink too much dr. pepper, screwing with their lungs.

i am the patron saint of soda.

and finally, clowns,

sad critters, too much pie on their face

and too many frowns on their fake flowers.

they grieve over my walls while

spraying water from the flowers, like a bottle of sprite exploding.

i am the patron saint of soda.