Prayer, whistling for god,
a summoning, a song,
the Big Cozy comes panting,
eager tongue dripping elixirs of timed relief,
needs me, needs us all in order to be, well,
God,
keeps busy day after apocryphal day,
no divine fun without the anthropocentric mess
to fix and fix and fix,
my emergency theocratically resolved,
and simultaneously, your crisis too,
millions and millions large and small,
each fix, (mine do) feels personal.