The Publisher

The Publisher

I sit, waiting as He reads.
Could they make this chair any less comfortable?
Straighten my collar, smooth my hair, and wait.

Finally:
"You know, this is good stuff,"
says God. "But I'm not ready to give you an answer.
Could you come back later?"

He starts to turn away.
"Please, please, reconsider," I burst out.
"Is it the content You don't care for?"

God shifts slightly.
"Well...you haven't really led a blameless life,
you know. I don't want to endorse..."

"But I reform," I point out.
"At the end. I realize the error of my ways.
This could really help you with publicity."

"This is Heaven.
We don't need publicity. But I suppose...
Could you work in a miracle or two? For image?"

Now I shift.
"But this is my life, the true account.
I can't lie. That would be a sin."

God frowns, drums his fingers.
"I'm not going to say yes." I groan.
"But I'm not going to say no, either."

"Come back in a week.
Peter, my secretary, let you in,
so you deserve a chance. All right?"

"Oh, thank You, Lord.
You won't regret this, I promise.
If you agree, I won't be any trouble."

I get up to leave.
"Oh, and Lord? Who else could I see?
While I'm waiting, I mean?"

He thinks.
"Well, just down the street there's Lotus,
Lotus Paperback Company."

"But the guy there...
I don't trust someone with ears that long.
And he tends to favor repeat costumers."

"You might try Krishna,
across the way. But he can be touchy,
and Anubis Inc. closed centuries ago."

"Look around," He advises.
"You'll find someone, if we can't help you.
Oh--here, take this copy."

"We'll get back to you,"
promises God as He shows me out.
"See you in a week."

The door closes.
Clutching my life, I step out onto the curb,
and try to flag down a taxi.