Plugged In

Outside he clambered up the church steps
Slabbering from within his guts
To the doors of the vestibule

Brushing worshippers aside like the cleaning
Rollers of a car wash mangling the clean
With the unclean

As his headlong rush to the main hall
Reminded me of the spaghetti western
As Clint pushed open the saloon doors
And everybody whistled that tune

He entered the hall overshadowing the
Brethren’s wagging tongues, reeking of
Spirits and a smell of curry hibernating
On his everyday coat

The swank of them looking at his filth
A drunk living on a doorway in a loaf-sized trunk
Since the death of his wife and son
Retching his life to the gutter

And as he dropped to the floor bellowing up
The aisles, were the words Rabbi, preacher, LORD
Forgive a common man of his sins

The minister then left the pulpit, held out his
Hand to the man with a Bible and said,
‘Christian before you use it always make sure
You have it plugged in!’