Torn

Dear God,

I know you told us,

Not to ask you about tomorrow’s food,

Cause you haven’t asked us,

About tomorrow’s sins.

But I’m looking at this angel sleeping on my arms,

And I’m wondering,

About tomorrow.

I’m torn between so many worlds,

My Albanian roots calling,

My Japanese life,

Asking me to stay.

Only yesterday,

I flew in through Germany,

Where I once grew up,

Fleeing from the monstrosities,

Taking over the Balkans.

God,

The day before yesterday,

I played with the toes of my high school friend.

We were sitting in the park and I just reached to her toes,

And discovered a wormhole through time.

She’s married now,

And I had to assure her,

That me reaching down her toes,

Didn’t have any erotic hidden meanings!

My brothers drove me through Albania,

And I don’t recall when I had so much fun.

They dropped me off at the airport,

And I flew all over the world. 

God,

For the first time,

I’m torn between good times…