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Giving the camel the side eye, a rich man named Kevin

asked, "Why in the world would He think I would want into heaven,

where the angels blow trumpets all night and then wake you at seven;

where the views are exactly the same from each pearly white casement,
broad streets paved with gold just devalue the hoard in my basement,

and you can't see the beautiful girls due to their self-effacement?

I would much rather lie on my wealth in a dank mouldy barrow
like a lich or a bloodthirsty vamp or an Egyptian pharaoh,
than to squeeze my voluminous self through a way that is narrow.

For the word of the Lord's etched in stone or in jewelled enamel,
but a man wearing wings and a harp is no longer a mammal,
and I'd much rather drive a Rolls Royce than ride round on a camel."


Red dahlias in a border.