Lunch Date with Jesus
Me and Jesus have a lunch date.
He orders a plate of nachos and I think:
That’s weird, I mean, who knew Jesus
Would like nachos, but then again
who doesn’t like nachos, but really the truth is
the nachos are only okay:
No double layer of cheese
so everything underneath is just
Warm chip
Anticlimactic
Mediocre
Substandard
Meh.
Like my confirmation
In church at 12 my dad the minister
laying hands on my head sacredly bowed
Hoping for unicorns or
Angel voices or at least
Something magical to happen
But like the nachos
it was just
Bread and grape juice
Anticlimactic
Mediocre
Substandard
Meh.
Jesus shows me his scars thinking
I’ll be impressed; I’m like, “dude
My heart is torn and twisted into blasphemy
with scar tissue
and world-hardened apathy.
your scars are window dressing and cliche I’m sorry I mean, yeah cool
You were crucified
I mean, it was like
Two thousand years ago and
I admit
I’ve been through some shit but not like
nails in my hands and feet
kinda shit but – Jesus
There are babies born inside out and
Without brains or hearts and
Toddlers riddled with cancer, I mean
Nuclear bombs and genocide and ebola and
Climate change and also USA; I mean
we are taking over the whole goddamn planet
and we are fucking up everything so I have to ask you
Were we ever
worth saving?”
He pauses awkwardly.
Looks at me
And shrugs.
He says.
“I love you.
I’ve always loved you.
Even at your worst.”
And I feel bad
“Jesus
I know I sound cynical it’s just
I wanted so badly to believe in you
Your story was beautiful, yet here you sit
All yoga guru and hipster bullshit and I
Feel foolish for crushing on you when I was twelve; see
you’re just like that boy
in grade 7;
the day I ran and tripped in front of the cool kids
when I flew slow motion and
Kissed the cruel pavement
and he laughed too”
“My bleeding knee-ed, red-faced horror”
