Treasure Island

A.j. Binash

(04-20-1988 / Dodgeville WI)

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.
No bigger
Than a dandruff flake.

He focused on the crucifixion.

“Should I pray, or something? ”
He asked.
“Show me a sign
That you'll answer my prayers.”

A car pulled into the parking lot.
Bottoming out,
As it passed over
The dipping blacktop.
Mixed with the headlights
Were illuminations
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.”
He responded.

“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.”

Submitted: Monday, March 31, 2014
Edited: Monday, March 31, 2014

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Topic(s): jesus

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