DollTalk

I know this family
of miserable dolls
who walk around wondering
if you can still get into heaven
when you’ve never believed in God.

These dolls like to walk around
wondering stuff.  They go all
fishy if they’re too certain
for too long, start smelling
the place up.  They gotta question,

gotta walk. Dolls
eat too much, stink, pray
vainly (they think) for salvation,
argue about who they’re praying to,
don’t care where they kneel

as long as everyone sees them
kneeling. Do you believe, they say to 
each other.  Do you believe?
I’ll get there first, they say to each other.
They don’t even notice me

standing there, my nose turned up
at the fishy smell, at how miserable
they seem on their knees pleading
and scrapping and praying.  Do you believe,
they ask each other.  And I’m standing right there

the whole time!  
It’s hysterical, ironic, you name it.
It’s a doll festival of cluelessness.
It’s not gonna get them anywhere.
And I’m not going to tip my hand.