Just as lightning struck.
It was dumb luck,
But my son, in awe, thought
That I’d created the electricity.
He asked, “Dad, how’d you do that?”
Before I could answer, thunder shook the house
And set off neighborhood car alarms.
I thought that my son, always in love with me,
Might fall to his knees with adoration.
“Dad,” he said. “Can you burn
down that tree outside my window?
The one that looks like a giant owl?”
O, my little disciple, my one-boy choir,
I can’t do that because your father,
Your half-assed messiah, is afraid of fire.