Itching Legs and Yahweh
itching legs & yahweh
the young boy had told his mother
he thought he was allergic to ivory soap,
in fact, he’d told her the night before---
but come sunday morning
all the care in the world couldn’t keep him
from being dragged to church
where the zombies sing in tones that couldn’t be
dreamt up to have any likeness less than that of a
poor cat being torn up in a blender
(whose screams & howls could probably still ignite more
interest in the flock)---
and since there had been no other soap in the house that morning
when he’d been told to clean up & to throw on the
“appropriate attire”
(of which of course, all supposed omniscient creators are
concerned with for some reason),
and so the boy went to church
against his better judgement &
against his own will
(as he’d already started to wonder quite seriously about
red seas parting, staffs becoming snakes, walking on water,
lepers coming back to life, etc.).
standing there listening to the tone-deaf
make-believe that amidst the wooly they hold some of the
most beautiful singers in the world,
the young boy’s legs insanely itch---
every free moment he crouches down and digs through his
suit pants to get at the irritated skin beneath,
infuriated by the whole situation, feeling as if he
is held captive by the zombies round him &
in knowing that if he was just old enough to drive,
he could go to a store & get a decent soap
that he wasn’t allergic to.
suddenly the minister who has been eyeing the room
during the massacre of melody taking place,
notices the boy itching & twisting where he is standing---
when the “hymn” ends,
the minister smiles at the young boy now sitting
(but still itching)---
“looks like someone has the holy spirit this fine morning!’
says the minister, smiling (as if to encourage a smile amongst the
zombies)---
the young boy looks up at the minister &
then pans the room, still itching,
simply retorting,
“goddamit!”
and when he got home & out of his
“appropriate attire,”
he was appropriately beaten
by his flabbergasted mother who couldn’t believe
that one boy who couldn’t stop itching
would embarrass her in front of the whole
church.
Copyright © Andrew Delapruch | Year Posted 2011
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