priest, father smith, at the 7-11.
he's buying a bottle
of red wine, a box of twinkies
and a carton
of cigarettes.
he looks stressed.
he looks like he's gained the covid
40.
hey, i say to him. what up?
oh, hello there, he
says, making no effort
to hide what he's buying.
haven't seen you in a while.
not since you broke up with that
crazy woman you were with.
did you give up on God?
he says,
tearing off the twinkie plastic
with his teeth,
and putting the whole
thing in his mouth.
no, just the church, i tell him.
i'm still down with God.
well, come on by
this Sunday, three masses,
one in Spanish.
we miss you.
the choir will be singing
motown this week, we're trying
to jazz things up.
maybe i tell him, pointing
at his cheek where a dollop of
cream filling clings
to his beard.
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