poem: Jesus was a junkie

12 Aug

Jesus was a junkie

some say
his face
carries the calm
of Christ
that it carries a peace
and quiet
and beatitude
of nothingness

most wouldn’t
the heroin
shoved in his blighted veins
buried in his savaged flesh
is his

his salvation

of course,
Christ never knew
or calm
or quiet
once word got out
once the rumors hit
page three headlines
in the New York Post
good, bad, indifferent
his options few
his destiny

laughter echoes
from the last row
of a Catholic Church
of any church really
fill in the blank
laughter echoes

you decide
you make

a decision
a choice
an observation
on where this is going

the man
with the face of Christ
his eyes a perfect blue
his hair long, brown and freshly washed
buys heroin
behind a immigrant’s grocery store
in East LA

chiva, chiva

kids the age
of my own kid
the age of my own
the age of innocence
still yearning

chiva, chiva

Mexican black tar heroin
muled over the border
El Centro, Calexico, Yuma

chiva, chiva

i wait my turn
pay one
receive from another

it doesn’t take long
before i am Jesus too


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