siting on the church steps as
i ride by
on my bike.
i pull over to talk to him,
ringing my bell
to let him know i'm approaching.
he's wiping
tears from his eyes,
shaking his head.
what's up, i ask him.
ah you know, confession.
not sure how much longer
i can listen
and not yell at people.
every week it's the same
old sins.
they never stop.
as soon as they're forgiven
they go right back out
and do it all over again.
lying, stealing adultery,
the whole nine years.
sorry, he says. i shouldn't
be telling you this,
but they're are a lot of bad
people in the world.
men and women.
they have no morals,
no real sense of guilt,
shame or remorse.
he stands up and lets out
a long exasperating sigh
looking up into the heavens,
as if waiting for an answer
or a lightning bolt to hit him.
i want to hug him, or give
him some advice, but i don't.
instead i ask him,
if the Church bake sale is
still on this weekend.
i just love that sourdough bread,
i tell him.
and the olive bread.
so crunchy.
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