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
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