Even A Weekend Visit
Jesus is coming, people have claimed
for more than two thousand years now,
but me, frankly, I really don’t think so.
I’m pretty sure he still remembers that
even after all he did to liven up
that wedding at Cana and raising Lazurus
from the dead and healing all the lepers
and cripples, we still nailed his skinny ass
to a cross and left him hanging there to die.
We mocked him with the crown of thorns,
and, hell, it hurt so fucking much
that even he had his moment of doubt
up there. And do you think he doesn’t remember
that of his disciples, his handpicked best buddies,
Judas betrayed him and Peter denied him
and Thomas doubted him? Would you show up
back here after being treated like that?
No way. I got to believe Jesus is staying put
in heaven where he belongs. God knows
he earned it. I like to think he’s hanging out
by the pool with his supermodel girlfriend
and cold German beer and fine Mexican weed
and a big fuck you smile on his face. I bet
Jesus laughs to himself every time he thinks
about Pat Robertson still on tv all the time
praying fervently for his return, then does
another bong hit and lays back down in the sun.
As much as we all hope and sure as Hell agree
that we could use even a weekend visit from him
these days to try to straighten this world out,
I can’t believe Jesus is coming back anytime soon,
and, for Christ’s sake, you really can’t blame him now,
David J. Thompson is a former prep school teacher and coach who grew up in Hyde Park, New York, and now lives in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. His poetry/photography book Grace Takes Me is available from Vegetarian Alcoholic Press, and a series of 1400 postcards he wrote to his friend Kaveh Akbar is now part of the permanent collection at The Newberry Library in Chicago, Illinois. Please visit his photo website at ninemilephoto.com.