“Why you think he said ‘eat of my body, drink of my blood/”
“I duno, man. “Maybe it was symbolic.”
“HEY, nobody pour the wine down the drain for right now.”
“How often you fellas think we should do it?”
“Every day!”
“Wine gets expensive, what about every Sunday?”
“Whatabbout every once in a while, so long as we remember the good stuff he did?”
“Hey, Big Rocky, whatta you think?”
“I’m just trying to get over you guys turning into human candlesticks
and talking funny languages
at the early service.”
“That gust of wind was pretty awesome, though, you gotta admit.”
“Guys, shut up for a minute and pray.”
By Danny Wayne Cotton
(Tonight’s poem, the last in a trilogy, I end with humor, June 23, 2011 at 2:20am)