I bumped into God on the street
He was carrying a bundle of typewritten pages
About half of the bundle fell to the ground
And the wind took some of the pages away
I am sorry, I said, even though I was not
What a clumsy old God, I thought
As I made a half-hearted attempt
To pick some of the pages up
The old God just stood and watched
Carrying about half of the bundle in his hand
Stupidly, his mouth moved, making words
But I was not sure if I had heard
I picked the pages the best I could
I said, watch you step old God, you should
You might bump into another one of me
He took the pages from my hand, silently
Skittered away
Without looking back
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