Praying to St Lou Reed

Lou Reed snarls at the opening syllables

of beseechment, the skinny boy's prayer.

Nobody told the boy to beware this saint.

'You only came to me because you know

it won't work,' Lou says. Then adds,

'Everyone else celestial turn you away son?

Well, I ain't no easy touch, 

even in the afterlife, kid.

But try again soon.'

At the second prayer, Lou sighs,

but gets caught by the begging eyes.

'Heaven loves a trier, puppy dog, ' he drawls.

'But that ain't me.'

And slams the pearly gates in the upset face.

Later, Lou listens hard to the third prayer,

stares back at the young man with issues

and sucks in his cheeks, unsure

what to make of all this 'blah blah'

when he just needs peace up here.

Patron saint of oddballs, is all he is.

But he decides to melt a little

anyways.

'Go to Times Square at midnight,' he commands,

'and wait for my winking angel there,

the one without wings, the butch one

with the leather coat.

For God's sake don't look him straight

in his queer eye or he'll just fly off.

You'll pay me back before long,

don't worry.'

Lou sees St Peter smirk, then hastily turn.

'Live and sin another day,' Lou snarls.

A group of hipster angels cackle nearby.

Lou kicks a cloud and kisses them goodbye.