In the beginning I partake of buds,

and the bath is heaven and good.

Using the pumice,

I reconnect with my feet.

Screpping away at the past weeks workload.

Juanito Dinero sings me his ballads. (E.V. joins in after)

Marquez book gets wet on the floor.

Two Jesus’ watch over me.

Both emit light.

The water turns milky white,

Infiltrated with cleansing agents.

The beer is there also,

to contrast the temp of the tub.

At first the water is merely luke,

then,

after a while,

after the heater has had a chance to apply itself,

I give it another try,

and it comes out perfect.

A Sunday symphony in two parts.

The entire cleansing process begins.

All the impurities are wiped away.

Sterilized into nothingness,

where they form gray matter gathered around the drain,

anxiously awaiting their trip home.

This is my church.

Where my sins are washed away,

rather than dealt with in penance.

It’s just the same though.

In this one bath I have the body and blood of god,

And a cleansing of body, soul and mind.

Juanito is my choir.

Gabe is my gospel.

I am the congregation.