A Pharisee Notices a Tax-Collector

I bought up my God at a deluxe sale,
He fits snugly in my pocket, clinking
With my loose change, a most amusing tale,
Here is no cross or bitter-wine drinking.
My God is easy, always telling me
That I am right (he’s less sure about you),
Does not deny me opportunity,
To glorify myself (and despise you).
He shows my reflection so prettily,
Blessing my light words and rock-hard actions,
As I judge my neighbour oh so wittily,
Urging God’s wrath against your infractions.
I glide from the Temple all safe and sound,
While you still slobber (for shame!) on the ground.

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