And a loud one
So loud
I thought it was municipal authorities with nightsticks
So when I went to the door
Cracked it
And found a little old black lady
I smiled
“Excuse me, please. I have to get decent.”
Up the stairs I go
And don a pair of ratty sweats
A tee shirt with food stains
And my hair is clotted with
Writing time grease
Opening the door barefoot
I step out
And it is the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints
She says “Do any of these look like problems to you?”
There is a blind man
And a cripple
And a set of buildings
And a funeral
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Do you confront these problems?”
I regard it.
“Not really. I mean, I don’t...no.”
It’s one PM, and I’ve only been sleeping for six hours
Her eyebrows arch.
“You don’t have a problem with disability? Blindness?
Death?”
“Oh!” I say. “I thought you meant, do I have a problem
With crippled people or the blind, like, as in, a prejudice.
Yeah! I think it’s horrible to be disabled.
Or blind.
Or die.”
“Do you ever have questions that you have no answers to?
Any problems that you can’t solve?”
I take a deep breath.
“I know I blew the first question, but the answer is
Honestly, no. That could be my sleepy speaking
I am a late riser, admittedly,
But I find that through self-reliance and common sense
All answers are pretty self-evident.”
“May I ask if you have heard the good news?”
“Well, yeah. I love it. I’ve read the Bible twice.
I find Jesus to be an inspiration.”
“Oh! That’s great!”
“I think so.”
She arches her eyebrow again. “If you don’t mind me asking,
What church do you prefer to attend? What’s your religion,
I mean?”
“Oh, I’m an atheist.”
Her face falls.
She quickly hands me a slip of paper.
“I’d like to personally invite you to a prayer meeting
On April thirtieth. It’s at the local church
Twenty-third and Cushman. You know where that is?”
“Yep. Grew up there.”
“Well, I hope to see you there. I’ll send my husband by
If that’s okay, to have a talk with you. Is that all right?”
“Always, ma’am. And thanks.”
She shakes my hand, nods, and walks quickly away
With the other, always silent partner they have.
Her husband already visited about a month ago
He still thinks I’m a Christian.
I’ve learned that if you don’t specifically state your views
And just listen, and never question anything
And smile, and just act like a
Brainless stupid asshole who’s afraid of being
Thought a non-conformist or not part of the crowd
(a great job of acting on my part)
They usually just assume you’re like them.
Because you are, when you’re like that.
So when they say
What do you think of Christ?
I say
“I’m very enamored of him and his message.
I love the bible. I’ve read it twice.”
That’s true
But they assume it means I buy it.
I extol the virtue of being beloved of the poor
And I turn over the moneychangers
And I believe in loving my neighbor
And turning the other cheek to the presumptuous
But the day I believe in a magical invisible man
Who refuses to speak to me
Because I want to cull favor with old ladies
Is the day that God will truly resent me
If he exists
And anyway
She interrupted my beauty sleep.