Jesus Outside the Liquor Store

I am not opposed to shaving my beard
or cutting my hair
based on any religious considerations
It's more a matter of personal preference

Threads of whiteish gray striations are invading
and I have no way to defend against them
I am content to let them colonize
a territory that will fall to them
regardless of any defensive tactics

On a recent faceless night
I was at the liquor by house and
as I was walking in two young men
walked past me very much looking like stoners

One said to me "What's up, Jesus?"
I stopped, raised my right hand
and said "Blessings, my Son"
We walked away from one another
Into an evening of blurred memories

Late Night Run

I saw God leave the liquor store last night,

it was one-thirty in the morning.

The Almighty seemed a little tired,

but who isn't at that hour?


His left hand was wrapped around

the handle of a bottle in a brown

paper bag. I wondered

what he had picked up?


A fifth of Whiskey?

Gin perhaps?

Maybe some Vodka?

Or a biblical favorite, some wine.


It took him a moment to find

the right key for the door.

He slumped in and slammed

it close. The engine sputtered.


He was on his way, but to where?

Where does God need to be

at one-thirty in the morning?

Theologians would say it's a mystery.