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Jul 07

They come with

the Spring,
bearing pamphlets,
church bulletins,
messages from
Above.
Undeterred by
hostility,
gutters filled
with the fluttering
refuse of
their world.
Answering each
question of immortality,
“Where will you
be when you die?”
I say, “In transit.
To Schenectady.”
Stymied, they move
on to the next
victim, except
the one who looks
deep into my eyes
and says, “Jesus saves,
brother, but, not you,
Motherfucker!”
I was taken aback
by his vehemence,
momentarily at a loss
for a response, wondering
whether he was an
Impostor, or spreading
The Word for real.

–Alan Catlin