The Other Assistant
by WILLIAM NIXON
Caller: Is there a God?
Siri: That's a question for another occasion and another assistant.
Whatever you're drinking, I'll have two. No,
she won't help get your firstborn into Harvard,
nor did she meet you on a flight from Honolulu.
As for God, let's try a less hackneyed question.
Have you heard, for instance, of the outsider artist
from a Gulf Coast fishing shack who pierced
a hole in his scrotum in hopes God would insert
His penis to achieve a more holy communion?
And you merely wonder if God exists?
Have you not suffered from burning shoes?
Have you not slept on on a bed of nails? Okay,
have you considered Greenwich? If nothing else,
you'd know the solace of topsiders & green polo shirts.
They're such nice people who thrill to the toy cannon blast
at the start of a yacht race. Habits are everything.
It's easier to do the wrong thing day after day
than the right thing for the first time,
so congratulate yourself when you resist
the third airport gin. Here's what I can tell you.
Mannequins look best with vague faces.
Women look best in front of baby carriages.
Siri has gone out to lunch, followed by her therapist.
She doesn't know if God exists, but she wouldn't interrupt
Woody Allen on the street for his autograph
like some people we know. Here's what I suggest.
Save your next call for your wife. Yes,
blue matches your eyes.
What matches the rest of you,
I haven't a clue.
WILLIAM NIXON has published two poetry collections, My Late Mother as a Ruffed Grouse and Love in the City of Grudges, as well as several chapbooks.