Sunday I pray’d for a way to make a livin’ ‘cause I’m sick an’ tir’d-a-livin’ in the land

of make-believe opportunity. . .

Saturday I pray’d for a man to take my blues away so I could bust loose the freakiest of all scene-stealin' Oscar-nominated fake orgasms and make-believe he was the best that ever did it. . .

Friday I pray’d for my check to stretch

just a few hours longer than the disconnect notice permitted, so I just tore up the bill since I really didn’t give a rat's anal spincter whether or not Allen Greenspan was Judas reincarnate of the workin' class in this make-believe land of not-so-good-'N'-plenty-of-nothin' . . .

Thursday I pray’d that my financial aid application would not be rejected because I was too busy lookin’ too busy huntin’ too busy checkin' thru the vomit from Monster’s belly for make-believe jobs that may not pay me what I am worth while owing HIGH five figures on student loans causing me to ask myself, "just how low can I really, really go?". . .

Wednesday I pray’d that my children and their children would learn from my own example that hard work and labor may not be enough in this world, but it will help you keep the wolves from chewin’ off your leg so you can keep a roof over your head,

unlike the fate of so many babies' mamas in this drama city who make-believe they really know who the daddy is. . .

Tuesday I pray’d for my people whose decendants freed not by Lincoln or Grant but by Harriet the conductor of the underground trolley who are now uniform’d inhabitants of the underground penal code who wait for halo-wearin’ heterosexual parole boards to determine their worth, peer deep into their mouths to check each prisoners’ “I” teeth, and then brand them with make believe hope leaving felony marks imbedded in their foreheads with invisible ink, not realizing human resource overseers can see it quite clearly with their magic “I” glasses. . .

Monday I unswaddled my ideologue hands from their serene position, placed them palms down to give me proper balance as I lift'd my knees from a familiar ground zero, and I realiz’d that even though I am willing to work, my prayers had long since expired because I had no more faithin a nation who had dethron’d my God, auction'd off my requests,and outsourced my Jesus overseas, yet I will never refuse to wave my flag. . .

I Will Never Stop Believing In in Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood, I will never stop believing in the Rainbow.

3:44 AM © 2004 by cynth’ya lewis reed