Pious Patrick O'Reilly

He'd rushed away from the bar;
His client, he knew, wouldn't wait.
Now his need for a parking space
Was reaching the desperate state.

He raised his gaze toward heaven:
"Lord, find me a parking spot,
And I'll never again drink whiskey,
Not even a single shot."

Then, in the very next instant,
A beautiful space he did find.
Said he with a short glance skyward,
"Lord, I found one. Never mind."

David Martin

Non-PC "
Poke" #6




               Home page   Poetry   Poetry Archive 15   Contact