White Chapel

I walk a mile, smiling and smoking A cigarette. Awaits me are glad-hands. Preacher explains in terms I know. For the sermons, is why I will go. Wearing jeans and a pretty blouse, I stand and sing along in my head. Last time I held a note, last song. Once I raised my hand to have head Doffed off. It's a choice in the Bible. God lives. Parks, darks and lights. Nights are colder, my soul is older. I eat wafer and drink grape juice in Honour of my parents, now long gone.