the clichéd third stanza twist

Walking my dog the other day,
I watched her
in the grass between the sidewalk and the street,
nose buried so deep in the grass,
she ran right into a sign post.
I saw it coming.
Couldn’t believe it.
To her indignation,
couldn’t stop laughing.
She returned to her scents.

Leaving the church the other evening with my daughter,
I watched her
in the outside courtyard on the way to the car,
nose buried so deep in a book,
she ran right into a column in the courtyard.
I saw it coming.
Couldn’t believe it.
To her indignation,
couldn’t stop laughing.
She returned to her book.

Reading the stories of my God,
I watched
the story inevitably unfold
into death and burial
running into what was apparently the end.
I saw it coming.
Couldn’t believe it.
To my indignation,
God couldn’t stop laughing.
And the story goes ever on and on.

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