Lord God, You ask many things of me;
please, let me ask this of You.
Can You stop cruising
my house?
A teenaged girl with a crush on me-
A “97 Crown Victoria station wagon,
a learner”s permit.
Your mother riding shotgun.
You’re making my parents nervous;
they think you’re a dangerous nut.
I want to go to the front window
and see you cruising my neighborhood-
it’s flattering-
but I can’t;
I’m busy playing
goose-and-giggle,
a little slap-and-tickle,
with Suzy Creamcheese
in the parlor;
she’s infectious.
Crash land, Lord,
Your fireball chariot on our lawn;
kick, Lord,
the front door in.
Rage into the foyer,
tear me from the parlor.
Crush me
in a bearhug,
crack my ribs.
Suck Your original inspirational breath from my lungs with Your mouth against mine.
Don’t You see
that I can never be
clean until You spoil me.