Dec 2015
I met jesus
in a Powell's bookstore
we were mere ants under
his mighty boots
We took turns
following each other around
he left trails of blue ink
all along the book spines
and I wanted to lick it up
He bought my
coffee and a two day old scone
the only question he asked me
was why I didn't believe in him
when I said I didn't know
He said that
it was okay because
sometimes he didn't
believe in himself
either
I met jesus
at a simple little bookstore
and realized that
he was nothing more
than a man
in a Powell's bookstore
we were mere ants under
his mighty boots
We took turns
following each other around
he left trails of blue ink
all along the book spines
and I wanted to lick it up
He bought my
coffee and a two day old scone
the only question he asked me
was why I didn't believe in him
when I said I didn't know
He said that
it was okay because
sometimes he didn't
believe in himself
either
I met jesus
at a simple little bookstore
and realized that
he was nothing more
than a man
The title of this poem is a private joke between me and myself. I realized a few years ago, that is you say jesus backwards, it sounds like sausage. And, then I wrote this poem. Pretty uncharacteristic for a "*******" atheist. But, the fact that knowing he was only a man makes it a lot easier to cope with the fact that we're all alone in this world.
(27/Transgender Male)
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