God
I've
built a house from the bones of the earth
and
live inside, alone.
I
have no voice now, can't recall the sound of it.
And
when I go out at night, the stars burn my body.
So
I seldom go out.
I
am God,
or
at least I was.
But
now I'm retired.
I
grew old and started forgetting things,
and
I swore to myself that if that ever happened
I'd
quit and move to Canada.
Well,
here I am, living in Saskatchewan
in
a house I've built from the bones of the earth.
Or
did I mention that already?
I
have an old Zenith television set
that
I bought in a secondhand shop in Saskatoon.
But
out here all you can pick up is channel 9,
which
is mostly Dick Van Dyke and Andy Griffith reruns.
Jimmy
Swaggart in the mornings,
cartoons
afterwards, Julia Childs at noon.
I
miss my old apartment in New York.
I
had cable there.
And
there was this nice old lady across the hall,
Miriam
Perlstein, who would visit, bring me pot pies
and
talk about her son the lawyer
and
her two daughters -- the married one
and
the one who was a tramp.
But
Miriam Perlstein died -- everyone dies.
I
can't remember why.
So
I moved to Canada
where
I live alone and watch tv.
Morey
Amsterdam and Huckleberry Hound.
I
am the Almighty, the Great I Am.
But
all I can pick up is channel 9,
and
the stars burn my body.
