Sweet mother of God,
why do you surprise me?
I open my eyes: you’re wide
with a smile, and a gift on your lap.
What do you have to give me?
An explosion or two, an implosion
would be nice. Cyclists launching
head over heels
and space holidays to the far side of Mars.
You surprise me,
you always do;
so I praise you.
I praise you,
and when your name is not enough,
I scream to the heavens:
Holy Jesus Fuck.
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