My First And Last Poem For Christ

The Christians arrived today, just as they always do every Saturday night to feed

the homeless.

I’d truly forgotten what it’s
like

to eat a holiday meal.

It was a Memorial Day weekend
inside cook-out.
Hot dogs with baked beans,
collared greens,
and mashed potatoes with plenty of

beef gravy.

The Christians are
like clock-work.

They make certain everyone’s dish is
piled high
and that every man gets
seconds and sometimes
 
thirds.

The Christians never ask
for anything in return
except for a thank you
and a hearty handshake
as hearty as –

the dinner.

I know they secretly wish they
could save some
of us along the way,
as any practicing Christian might
be inclined

to do.

They’re all hoping we’ll eventually
see the light,
and come –

to Jesus.

And although none of
the men,
including me,  
may ever accept Jesus Christ as
a personal Lord and Savior,   
what with all the beans they
fed us,
a good amount of us may
very well see plenty of
lights flashing on and off late
tonight
while shouting Christ’s
name –

out loud.

The Kickback

The charitable people from
the church
come into the shelter
once a month
to spread The Word of The Lord,
treat us to some decent
food,
and catch a few ounces of
gratitude –

for themselves.

Once in awhile,
it serves a Christian right
to give a little to
the needy,
and see how the other half   
dies
just a little
more

each day.