His Face Among The Clouds.
He dragged his feet up the concrete steps.
Scraping them across the ground.
Skipping tiny pebbles,
With each motion of a foot.
He approached the front door of the church.
All the lights were off,
Except for one lamp.
Spotlighting a golden
He un-focused his eyes.
In the glass
A mocking reflection,
Shadowed his straight lipped glare.
He brushed dirt away from his cheeks.
For a second pondered
How a woman could wear makeup.
From his chest came a hiccup.
That blasted steam
Onto the glass.
In a bout of spontaneity,
He drew a smiley face.
In the blotch of breath
That was vanishing
From the glass.
He watched as the smiley face shrunk,
Disappearing into a white spec.
Than a dandruff flake.
He focused on the crucifixion.
“Should I pray, or something? ”
“Show me a sign
That you'll answer my prayers.”
A car pulled into the parking lot.
As it passed over
The dipping blacktop.
Mixed with the headlights
Of red & blue.
A police officer
Stepped out of the vehicle.
The tips of their fingers
Tickling the gun
Fastened to their hip.
“Everything alright? ”
The officer asked.
He could see the silhouette
Of a person,
Standing before the headlights.
“Everything is fine.”
“Alright, well...this is private property.
I am going to have to ask you to leave.”
He turned and looked at the crucifixion.
Then back again at the silhouette.
“Alright, yeah...I get it. I can leave.”
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