Saint Louis Blues

 

‘You’d better show up’, you said, ‘it’s my birthday’

And here I am slicing zucchinis for my room and board

from Ash Wednesday to Maundy Thursday

Its just another day in the year of our lord

 

By the time I swung by

you were up to your ass in orison

and then perhaps you were just up to the thigh

of the girl you told you were Jim Morrison

 

I had no reason to suspect

you gave me the truth in that auricular booth

that losing your religion hurt less,

much less than losing your youth

 

You said come with me,

i’m going to find the choir where the angels sing

and we’ll bring a Judas tree

Bring what you like, i said. I’ll bring my bling

 

It was already a quarter past seven

you said we were late and we had to fly

You were aiming for the kingdom of heaven

But I think that you shot a bit too high

 

The girl at the travel desk smiled, ‘you can get there by walking in ten’

We knocked and we knocked, you said they’re probably smoking crack

I said ‘you idiot, just knock again’

And the voice of god thundered, ‘Cut it out! They’re all out back!’

 

Jesus beamed, ‘welcome, my children

How was your flight?

I hope you have a pleasant stay

Does anyone have a light?’

 

Aquinas produced a lighter from one of his pockets

though it took a few tries to get a spark

Christ inhaled and his eyes sank deep in their sockets

as he stared silently at the dark

 

‘why do men still suffer?

I say to you, there’s neither reason nor rhyme

‘with every moment that goes by, the world becomes a little bit rougher’

Augustine popped out his head, ‘Anyone know what’s the bloody time?’

 

Origen had it and he gave it to August

Read from a digital watch he got in Niagara Falls

And Origen said, ‘but there’s more and I need to be honest’.

Jerome fired back, ‘You don’t have the balls.’

 

Origen read Auggie the seconds that passed

then turned on Jerome, ‘thou art a wretched loner.

To study His word with my sails at half mast

is far superior to thy perpetual boner’

 

Francis silently drifted in and took a seat

emaciated from the heat and from hunger

On his shoulder an albino canary, and a deaf cat at his feet

Salvation may be near but dinner takes a little bit longer

 

‘fray not, I beseech you’ he said with concern in his eyes

his plea echoing about the twilit garden

None dared ignore his deep, disappointed sighs

One by one they all begged his pardon

 

and slowly sifting in among the penitent

was the sweet aroma of meatballs and spaghetti

Summoning the saint, the Eunuch, The Lord and the mendicant

at long last, supper was ready.