Eighteen

This, then, is how you should pray.

The beggar crouches in his street-level
     sanctuary,
offers his sacrifice, fasts with patience.
His open hands await the manna.
The manna never comes.

The cracked out whore lies prostrate in her
     holy of holies,
faithful and obedient with her talents.
She awaits her master's return.
Her master never comes.

The trashcan orphan dreams in his
     manger,
gently cries away his empty belly.
He waits for the safety of home.
Home never comes.

And lest ye be judged, then judge not these,
For this, then, is how you should pray.