A table of Jesus-stuff at the door
A beefish man in gas-station shades
Channeling Chaucer’s Pardoner – he ain't
Never heard of him – in peddling salvation

“It’s for the church. It’s for the missions,” he says
Ignored by most.  Then in a mutton moment
He spreads his legs and clutches at his (faith)
Laughing a pelvic ****** at his fellow apostle

A gormless guide to The Golden Shore
Touting tawdries and tidings at the truck stop door