Sunday
Today the boy, wanting to stay tuned, grabbed the VR
Sweating profusely, needed a washcloth bathing
Boys don’t enjoy Sundays but they do after all
The class in awe of Revelation, wanting more
fruit, casserole, sweets and godly treats
We were at the movies when the sermon broke in
and we wept as the sinners waded into the baptismal
Back home, the grabster and the friend on other end
A friend, who knows not him
Sitting with my wine in a boot, or something like that
Watching Martha, feeling sorry for her but elated
for she related to the prisoners
It is dark now and rain’s now in my boot
I take a sip and fall asleep
or rather
write a poem, from the hip*
*from the hip - to act impulsively, like drawing a gun from the holster.
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