Ha.
The day of my mother's funeral some poor sap was being baptized.
Good luck son.
From behind the thick glass separating our
small,
gloomy,
tear ridden
death chapel and their
stupid,
smile splintered,
dry eyed hall
you could hear roars of applause.
Each time we fell silent, they applauded.
Coincidence of course, but disturbing none the less.
If only they knew that as they applaud  and smile, that poor sap,
dressed in white
and drenched on holy water and oils,
is dying. He's already begun his decent. Maybe some time soon I'll be on the other side of the glass.
Blinded by the gleam of a
naked,
wet baby bottom.