forgive me...

you go to confession
finally
after so many decades.
you've written
down all the sins that you
can remember.
you wheel barrow
them into
the confessional.
you have an assistant
with you
with a wet sponge
to moisten your fingers
and tongue
as you turn
the dry pages.
the priest listens
patiently, ordering
out for pizza
as he sits behind
the metal screen
and curtain. go on
my son, he says.
continue. you can smell
the pepperoni
and cheese wafting
through the darkened
booth. you hear him
sipping a nice
chianti. this makes
you angry and jealous
of him. you have
your assitant write
that one down too.
it never ends.