sunday morning

I have a theological
question for you
she says
as she paints her toe nails
a bright strawberry
color.
you're still in bed,
listening to the birds
squawk outside
the window.
if there is a God,
why is there so much pain
and anxiety
in the world.
you look at her,
concentrating on each
toe, dabbing gently
the color onto each small
nail.
God seems mean sometimes,
she says,
ya know?
are you awake, can you hear
me?
yeah, I heard you.
it's a mystery, one that we can
only
find the answer to by
dying.
seems unfair, she says.
screwing the top back onto
the nail polish.
she adjusts the cotton
balls between her toes,
and blows on them.
I can tell you the answers,
but first
I have to kill you.
what's up with that?
I dunno.
ihop for breakfast?