I found this link thru Quin's page. You're suppose to write 100 words on the topic of the week. This week: Miracle. Here's my five minutes worth.
Miracles don’t just happen.
They just happen to be little lumps of coal
You grind between your molars and canines
Until they shine like tennis bracelets
And if you’re self obsessed just throw it around your wrist.
If not, give it to your gal
She’s the real miracle, anyhow.
Miracles aren’t spewed from the pulpit.
They’re recited into toilets
And they smell like vodka and cranberry.
And if used tampons don’t disgust you
I hear the stalls here have great acoustics
And it’s not that I’ve got a voicebox
The miracle is that I’ve got the sense to use it.