in for service

it smells
like sunday, I think as I sit

here in church,
kneeling

getting out my list
of sins

to confess and ask repentance
for.

i'm a car going in for service.
up on the rack.

dear God,
change my oil, rotate my tires.

lube me, fill me up of with holy
fluids,
all
that I lack.

vacuum the dust and debris
of my
dark mind.
shake me
clean

of leaves, of cobwebs.
then put a sticker on my forehead.

i'm good to go
until next sunday,

if it's not raining or
there's a foot
of snow.