They say storks deliver babies,

But it’s just not true.

God peels us, one after another,

from Texas-sized sheets of

plain wax paper, like so many

slices of bacon (Why else design us

to stack so nicely?).

He shakes us gingerly

to remove excess fat,

then shoots us

down silver slides

from

heaven

to

earth

on our still-greasy

backsides

to cure in

the noonday sun.

-DMN