Jan 8, 2022

Jesus and the French Fries.

The mushrooms kick in and your brain grows feathery wings

And flies right out of the window, into the exploding green sky.

You hear bassoons and oboes. Someone is singing the poems

Of Emily Dickinson quite loudly, and without any particular melody.

The smell of french fries. Aah. And flowers fly beside you

Like small birds. Chirping. Any hard feelings you were harboring

Are now gone. You love your enemies, just like Jesus said.

You are walking, no, you are flying, no, you are swimming

And the street has become a river. Today has become tomorrow.

Now Jesus is here, and he brought french fries. Let's run.

No, let's dance. Let's release all of the balloons. 


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