going to hell on a speed pass

i end up on a channel

of

a televangelist.

his hair slicked back with

whale oil.

his suit striped and bold,

shiny, like

a fish out of water.

the orchestra

behind him. the choir in gowns.

his big haired

blonde wife

at the organ.

her face stuck in a smile.

there's clapping, there's

yelling,

there's fainting as he

puts his hand on their heads,

healing them from

what ails them.

kidney stones and indigestion.

corns on their toes.

for five dollars you too

can have what they have.

for fifty your

cupboard will

overflow. for a hundred

your crops will grow.

your stars will align.

the phone numbers scroll

at the bottom of

the screen.

a special number for

Puerto Rico.

it's mesmerizing.

hypnotic

in some strange car

wreck of a way.

you wonder if they're all

eventually going to 

hell on a speed pass.