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Friday, October 7, 2011

THE PRIEST

am sitting in a bus, going to my sister's
a drunk beside me, stench of cheap liquors.
A half empty bottle of brandy in his pocket
stains of cheap lipstick on his shirt,
bright red, maybe from a common slut
I would've opened the window for air,
but flies might fly in, I fear.
He is reading one of the local dailies
the fact that he can read is itself, a surprise
and when I least expect a word from the fiend,
He says, "pray, tell me my dear friend,
what causes this disease, athritis?"
After a shocked moment, I bark my thesis
"Cheap drinks, vile women, disrespect for God and oneself "
He shakes his head and mutters an "oh my" to himself
after second thought and a minute of self reprimanding,
"Am sorry, are you a patient?"I ask, apologising
"Oh No! Am healthy _very very healthy" he answers,
"I've just read it's a disease from which the Pope suffers!"

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