Home > Poetry > Indulgences


Last time I went to church,

they were selling hot dogs and espresso in the lobby.

I wanted to tell the preacher that it smacked of money changers in the temple,

but I’d promised my wife I wouldn’t make a scene.

Too bad ole Martin Luther went and made the sale of indulgences so damn unpopular,

then a fella could stay home and watch the game, knowing his ass was covered,

sure would be more useful than rubbery hot dogs and bad cappuccino.

But nah, I’m stuck here drinking a three dollar cup of coffee, listening to insipid Christian pop, and wondering if I’ll be home by half-time.

I’ve felt closer to Jesus at a bingo parlor.

Categories: Poetry
  1. May 14, 2010 at 6:19 am

    Love it! Been to more than one church like that…sadly.

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