"Das Lied" 

there it is at the top of Rilke's “the song of the waif”

translated to english for my convenience.

Rilke informs me that as a child he was once “almost too little to live"

that someday he'll be "mowed down" which is distressing to read

and along the way he invokes the name of God as I sometimes do

and he capitalizes God, and I do, too.

but here, I'll leave Rilke to his own devices, the mechanism

which drives him from girl-child to boyhood and beyond.

I have my own God to reinvent, putting the omnipotent one

behind the wheel of its gleaming Eldorado, a miraculous machine.–– 

It's God and me cruising the Friday night drag on the lookout

for Portuguese snatch; their young exhibitions presented

well beyond their bedtimes.

God tunes-in to Buddy Holly's "Rave On" from the dashboard

with me riding "shotgun"— shooting the breeze with God, acting as though

I could bum a smoke from God, acting as though God’s my pal, my chum,

referring to God as "God", as though "God" was God’s first name. but–

well, there it is; Das Lied. the song.– my serenade to you this morning.