Was it Job
or Forrest Gump
who said life is a box of chocolates
left by Satan
in the sunny back window
of a Chev sedan,
where the heat can kill
waiting children and whiny dogs?

Drive it through the carwash
as often as you want,
you´ll never touch the stain
nor reclaim
the sweetness wasted all over the upholstery.

Christ was born into this:
the burning backseat
of a carbon-coughing car
parked on the asphalt improvement
to an unprofitable meadow
around a Louisiana Walmart.

If you want to know
how it all turns out in the end,
then give old Job a call,
but don't pretend to be his friend.