The Chat with Father Smith

I stop by the old church, 

St. Bernadette's,
a stones throw away
from my front door.

I see father smith out on the front
steps
smoking a cigarette.
there's a brown paper bag
with a bottle in it

tucked in his lap.
he's wearing black. a long
heavy
robe,
he's got the white collar going
on and
boots that remind

me of a pair of Cuban boots
I had back in
the 70's made of Spanish leather.

we actually called them Beatle boots.

hey. I say.
walking up. what's up? hot as hell
out today,  isn't it.

how would you know about the temperature
in hell, he says in a snarky non priest
like way.

just a manner of speech I tell him.
sorry.

it's okay, he says. i'm a little
grumpy. he rubs his unshaven

face.

i just went through some
tough confessions.
excuse my French but there are some really
fucked up
people in this congregation.

true, I tell him, but you've got one less
since my ex departed
to another parish.

yeah. he says,
can't say I miss her.

she was killing me with her confessions.
an hour long and the same thing
week after week. not to mention her

perfume.

her and the married boyfriend, 

the water skiing santa, 

what the hell was that

all about?

I think half my robes smell of her perfume.

we had to exhume the entire booth

after she left.

yup. I tell him. oh well. what are you gonna do?

hey, what's up with the black robe,

very nice and stylish, but
don't you guys have summer outfits.
something white, or light blue or green.

maybe with vents in the sides for
air flow or mesh.

oh, this old thing, nah. budget has been
tight with the virus and all.
we're low on wine, on wafers,
and on incense. we're waiting on a shipment

from the Vatican.

I tried to get some on amazon, but no luck.

that Bezo's is the devil, I tell ya.

I take a can of pinto beans out of my
pocket. do you mind dropping this off
in the donation box when you go back in?

the can is dented but I think the contents
are okay. oh and these salmon packs too.
they've been in my cupboard for over a year
now. I can't eat that crap.

former tenant left them behind when i
booted her.

sure he says. sure. thanks. maybe i'll have
them for lunch if that's okay.

hey, it is Friday, right? I assume you're still

doing that fish only thing, aren't you?

help yourself.