When her Jesus Came

I got saved, throwing myself on the cheap ply-wood altar railing
along with a girl who I practiced making out with in dark basements.

I’ll never forget the catch in my grandmother’s voice that night
after the christmas pagent, in her car, alone. She said that she’s always
worried that no one else could come with her

to heaven. Now I would. I had no idea what it was
that I had done, but I was pretty sure that when

her Jesus came, I’d go with the other-girl kissing,
screaming, cursing, fighting, enraged, sad, masturbating,

rock-music listening masses. And I was happy for it.

1 Comment

Filed under Frustrations and Rants, Musings, poetry

One response to “When her Jesus Came

  1. Oh, how I relate to this!

    You’ve been writing a lot lately. Yay for you!

    Why is it a cheap plywood altar railing? Is it a temporary location, like a tent revival, or just a church with not much money?

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