Twelve

While eating jelly donuts
Every day at noon
(the hour without shadow),
The singing would abruptly end
As the radio sent the message,
"This is God's minute."

God usually got twenty,
Sometimes thirty seconds,
Before the girl made of dough
Rolled the station over
To "something more appropriate"
Like listless rock and roll.

One day the donut girl
Must have chosen to ignore
The radio's brief warning
Of the coming of the Lord.

Anyway, God got his minute,
But with marked certainty
My wristwatch curtly revealed
That He gave only a forty-five second speech,
Leaving us with fifteen seconds
In which we were meant to think.