I wonder if there are priests
sitting on beds drinking Diet Coke
and contemplating the meaning
of heaven, of sex,
of indigestion from a burger
and fries with onions
in a bar, the angels
covering their ears from the din
of four pool tables,
of slipping on the spilled Red Rock,
while outside the traffic thins
and the neon blinks
its message to the gods.

First appeared in Anthropocene, Issue 1, 2021

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