Jehovah is seated, a coffee cup in hand,
the umbrella's shade towers over his seat.
I am sorry I am late, not my usual self. I sighed.
I look at the street, the cars and passers-by, restless,
I am not sure where to start. Can I can look him in the eye?
Snapping his fingers, he offered me a seat.
It's alright, relax, and let us have this talk.
Thank you for this meet up, despite your busy day
But things are getting tougher. I'm sure you knew.
If people knew you're here, the media will be all over you
with cameras and microphones, in global TV, on the web, demanding
that you who parted the Red Sea to do it one more time, or
heal the world of COVID or Richard Dawkins or bring
Bertrand Russel back to life. They will test your brain with instruments
or enclose you in a lab. Sorry, Jehovah, I'm distracted, with many things.
Let me regain my focus quick, been working at it for years.
Then Jehovah asked, what do you want to know?
Only one thing and if you require an NDA, I'll sign-
Do you have a schedule now, a date, for dooms day?
Jehovah replied, Well, sorry, you know that's classified.
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