The Jesus Trick Bag

Henry hung up on the rack Jesus-like hearing impassioned voices bursting forth—

“Crucify the gimcrack mother-fucker”

“Get rid of him and his kind”

“The earth will be a better place if you snuff him, the sooner the better”

And so it goes Henry thought— Nothing like a slap in the face as ominous and wintry death approaches. Jews weeping vainglorious as  Centurions whip the be-Jesus out of him.

Followed thru life by a shadow, a fateful warning—It will be very nasty in the end, it's the same for everybody, no escape from the certitude.

Henry feeling as though a sieve had been forced into his mouth,  cement and glue poured into it as as the drying process unfolded slowly the body solidified, he could hardly move or think, he was dead-thick.

It wasn’t clear anymore, he was uncertain if he was present here or not—The picture went from clear to semi-clear, at times fading out completely.

Henry listening to Freddie King live on colored-radio, WXRT Houston rock-in blues, back now—

“ Gospel, blues and Jesus-stomp “… he thought—

Remembering “Blues Brothers,"  Jake doing flip flops, levitating, James Brown high on TCP.

Henry lifting himself up off the floor,  Jesus standing over him says—

“ Why Henry you know life is a gift and you can open yours now…”

Henry a sucker for the Jesus trick bag.

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