jesus and me talk about you all the time.

[izeveryboyin]

I was walking casually down the street passing trash gardens and rail tracks, crack junkies galore when the payphone rang three blocks up from my place. Curiously, I answered.
“Hello” an obscure voice said, “Back door beauty?”
“No.” I replied.
“Yellow tail?”
“Sometimes,” I answered, “Who is this?”
“Jesus the new funkatron hero.”
“Jesus is a punk rocker?” I asked, remembering the lyrics to a local punk band’s song.
“Sometimes.”
We were quiet as the rain pitter-pattered away on the empty liquor bottles beside trash bins nearby.
“Is it wet?” He asked, voice low.
“What?”
“Outside, is it wet?”
“You ought to know.” I smiled, “You’re Jesus.”
He laughed, “I know it’s raining.”
Again, we were quiet until suddenly he said, “You’re smart, who put you here?”
“I dunno.”
“Was it me? I don’t remember you.”
“I don’t believe in Jesus.”
“Do you believe in me?”
“I thought you were Jesus.”
“Only for today.” He replied.
“What about tomorrow?”
“I don’t know; it doesn’t exist yet.”
“Were you Jesus yesterday?”
“Only during even hours and twice at 9-o-clock.”
I laughed and looked around. A little girl was watching me from behind her mother’s arm. She quickly hid out of sight when I met her gaze, peeling her pretty blue eyes from mine. I imagined little fairies and dancing girls in her head, good things and warm faces that could create a whole new classification of smiles. It was ridiculous—how the fuck could I possibly know what this girl was thinking? Just when I had that thought, another vision came to me via her imagination. It was of a tall figure in jeans and a checkered shirt. He walks over menacingly, takes a swig of Southern Comfort and smacks the little girl where she stands. I flinched on the impact and dropped the phone. Before I could look to the girl again, she and her mother had already boarded a bus and were heading up the road. I remembered the discarded receiver, picked it up, and placed it back against my ear, still sighting down the road after the bus. There was a dial tone. Jesus had deserted me—again.

[Doreen Peri]

jesus!

that's some fine writin' there missy

i b'lieve it is

hallaluyah sista!

(how's it growin', hmmm? feelin' ok? when d'ya wanna knit together?)

[mnaz]

You took me there, to that payphone and trash gardens and wet rail tracks and rain pitterpattering on empty liquor bottles.

And those glances at a bus stop... those eyes reveal lifetimes of warmth and pain. That secondary figure full of violent booze figured in the mix, but not for long. And Jesus deserted me too, though he meant well.

[Dave The Dov]

Amazing!!!! Keep 'em coming!!!!
_________________
Ferrari 456

[izeveryboyin]

glad everybody liked it!! D, it's growin just fine. Can we knit together right now???

--k