theology of an agnostic

taking in the plaids
the ginghams
the houndstooth
something of argyle
something of celtic design
do you really care what we are all wearing
do you really think we care what you are wearing
god sits naked
on a
maroon divan
a sofa, if you will, that is cat scratched to all hell
torn at the seams
in bread bag shoes
he grimaces
at where we are
who we are
what we have become
they used to carve goats and pigs
lick a toad
eat a button
sacrifice the occasional virgin
near a pit of fire and doom
now we just nod and drink a cocktail with too much ice and a funny plastic stir stick
he laughs
we cry
and then we wake up cursing him
hoping he does not exsist