The field cats hunt my toes, catching my thoughts.
The shade tree, sun dialled in.
I walk in place, not getting any closer nor further away.
The road pushes gassy cars like intestines.
Adding girth to Mass.
The breeze feeds my lungs, holy gale.
I look in the 'lost and found' to see if I was both.
Honey baring smile at my sins.
Rev. Cure wants to rally the congregation of the love sick.
I sacrilegiously laugh at the divine comedy.
Sailing on the worship.
Brahma is leading the cast, I watch, detached.
My hair ripples and reflexes the light, no need for jewellery.
The cat's tail swishes with the rhythm of a preachers sermon.
The rail road 'crosses' for miles, well out of sight.
The crows sing, the choir.
Mosquitoes come for the donations.
Just another day at church.