This is It

So this is the world.

I'm sitting on Blanca's porch
with the radio
in my socks
and staring at it,
the world,
as if I'd been here all along.

Behind me
I can feel the SINS piling up,
sitting there like a rancid mountain
of lime jello
with little chunks
of pears inside,

and I pity God
when he'll hafta
count them all one day--
those SINS--
but I like to think He'll
tally them up
with a slight smirk on
His holy face.

Meanwhile I'm looking at the world.
This is it.
Apartment complexes,
television noises,
and MY music floating skyward
and disappearing.

It's not so bad,
ya know?