In bestowing good gifts
like parking spots and wine and love,
a less gracious god would grant us each, say,
one, or fifty, or a hundred.
A hundred front row parking places,
no less, no more.
What would we say then,
when we learned the hero driving the firetruck
used his last front door space
to run into the Spend-N-Sav
while our house was going up in flames?
A hundred front row parking spaces
Fifty fine Merlots
One perfect kiss
No more, no less.