When the Witness CallsPosted: 1, 17 September , 2013
Here they come, those witnesses.
They climb the steps with their literature.
I always answer the door.
I like seeing their kids all dressed up.
Love me those spic and span families.
They start in, but I interrupt.
I am not as polite as the witnesses are.
I just say, I don’t have time.
Sometimes I tell them, I’m an atheist.
The witnesses always keep calm.
They go away nicely and don’t talk about me.
I suppose they must pray for me, me and my soul.
But I don’t care one way or the other.
I really am an atheist.