June 21 by The Running Son
If I ever met Jesus I’d body-check Him.
If I saw the Apostle Paul
I’d map every detail; the oiled hair,
both of his eyes, and what he’s seen.
If his windows are clear, or still being cleaned,
if he’d trade out his queen for a king.
I mean, I don’t know these things.
If I saw Mary Magdalene, I’d breathe
and maintain, and promise to never use her.
Cut me loose? I’d Ebenezer Scrooge her, or worse:
hop on some pop topic, join in—a raging engine,
hit the fast-track, lob a ton of rocks,
do it non-stop trying to top
the Marquis De Sade
plus his whole goddamn squad.
If I saw God I’d applaud.
You create us, then we complain? Nice job!
But of course you’ve got my nod,
you called my name, you count my hair,
you share my blood, but if you’ll recall
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