Sacrosanct Divisions

She made the sign of the cross as she passed the park by the cathedral, His Baptist legs stopped dead on its tracks killing his amorous rush, His ‘whatever voice’ said, “choose your churchified kind” The Presbyterian friend raised an eyebrow like his grandma does, And reclined into congregational mode humming “Amazing Grace” Then she looked up and saw the third pal muttering unknown tongues, Clutching her rosary, wide eyed she rushed her ‘the more the better ‘Hail Marys’ ’ Last night she recalled Mr. Miracle on TV, arms reaching, asking, to dig deep – Eyes, eye to eye with the camera: ‘give, give and you’ll get returns, big time!’ And then her walls came down, her catholic spirit cold as a smokeless altar – Then she saw walls come up, like sacrosanct divisions, typifying God. What about love? Humph! What’s love got to do with it? Jeez!