July 29: Pimping WiFi, Meth Addict, Francisco X. Alarcon, "Prayer"

Welcome to Saturday morning at McDonald's.  That's right, I'm at McDonald's right now, pimping off the free WiFi, having breakfast, and being poetic.  I'm surrounded by the normal Saturday morning crowd--old, retired men sitting together and talking politics (they don't have President Obama to kick around anymore, so they are much quieter); travelers dropping in to buy coffee and make use of the restrooms; divorced fathers with their kids, trying to create quality time; beleaguered mothers with packs of young children, looking for a break.  You get the idea.

As a child, I was taught that everyone I meet is a reflection of Jesus.  Jesus is the middle school teacher and the homeless person on the corner.  Jesus is the meth addict and the atheist.  Yes, Jesus is even Donald Trump, although I have a real problem with that one.  The Jesus in Trump is buried pretty deeply somewhere under all that orange hair.

That's my vision of Jesus.  Human.  Embracing all the flaws of humankind.

Even Saint Marty has a little Jesus in him.  Hard to believe, right?

Prayer

by:  Francisco X. Alarcon
translated by:  Francisco Aragon

I want a god

as my accomplice

who spends nights

in houses

of ill repute

and gets up late

on Saturdays

a god

who whistles

through the streets

and trembles

before the lips

of his lover

a god

who waits in line

at the entrance

of movie houses

and likes to drink

café au lait

a god

who spits

blood from

tuberculosis and

doesn’t even have

enough for bus fare

a god

knocked

unconscious

by the billy club

of a policeman

at a demonstration

a god

who pisses

out of fear

before the flaring

electrodes

of torture

a god

who hurts

to the last

bone and

bites the air

in pain

a jobless god

a striking god

a hungry god

a fugitive god

an exiled god

an enraged god

a god

who longs

from jail

for a change

in the order

of things

I want a

more godlike

god