Poem Written the Evening Before a Spent Satellite is Scheduled to Hit the Earth

The giant red clown-nose
of the rising sun
leaves the hills behind
as the century begins
with a botched punchline.

We drive past a crowd
of animal rights activists
chanting and waving placards
outside the rubber chicken factory.

The internet warns us of
a giant custard cream pie
hurtling through space on
a collision course with earth.
Or maybe it's a meteor.
The scientists are uncertain
and, in fact, seem more than
a little intoxicated. 

God sheepishly staggers back to the bar,
asks if he can use the phone,
says, "I can't believe I did this, but
I locked my keys in the car again..."