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after swilling as much sicera 
as he could pound down
a middle ages drunk stood over in the
corner
somewhere in the alley behind the
church,
whipped it out, closed his eyes &
flushed out all his toxins down upon
what he thought was the ground---
turns out there was a pile of cloths stuffed
in the crevice between the building &
the ground adjacent to it.

the cloth dried in the sun &
was stuffed in the garbage---
then, wouldn’t you know it,
one day, a devoted believer was pawing
through the refuse &
low & behold,
there layeth the holy shroud of
urine.

the psychotic believer held up the cloth
to the sun,
crusted with foul smelling urine &
babbled some idiosyncrasies to the sky---
with time, 
one delusion lead to another &
soon the church got a hold of it.

believers feel that the crusted urine covered cloth resembles 
the face of their perfect jesus---
he obviously was a tortured man,
anyone can tell that by the way the maggots congregated in the 
little circles where his droopy eyes would be 
&
the “man of the shroud” bears a moustache, a beard,
and is apparently quite buff, 
standing at 6 foot 2 inches---
he of course has “wounds” that corresponded to
said big fat work of fiction &
no doubt with further study,
he will also be found to have had pretty blue eyes,
long golden hair &
it will be decided that the reason he hasn’t come back yet 
is because he’s all shellacked with coppertone 
somewhere in miami 
hanging out with 
fabio.

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