Street Corner Savior

By John Grey

I'm impatient with this bedraggled savior.
Here's a quarter. No I don't want the book.
What are you doing in that alley-way.
And when did Jesus ever beg.
Died for sins yes but didn't smell like them.
Okay, I'll repent if that's what it takes
to move away from here.
By the time my foot touches the next
crack in the sidewalk, I'll be a changed man,
Saul on the way to Damascus,
if that's what it takes to have you
bathed, hair combed, chin shaven.
Maybe I should lecture you instead.
Put the book away, the grubby hand
back in your pocket.
If you're going to convert,
you have to look the part.
Smart suit, solemn tie, smarmy grin,
hair parted on the right,
and a telephone number scrolling
across your midriff.
Here's a buck, preacher man,
go get yourself a cable television show.
From that shiny alley-way,
you can save thousands at a time.
Dollars, sinners... you won't know.

John Grey is an Australian born poet, works as financial systems analyst. Recently published in Bryant Poetry Review, Tribeca Poetry Review and the horror anthology, “What Fears Become”with work upcoming in Potomac Review, Hurricane Review and Pinyon.