May Gumbytron heap blessings on you and yours

I picked up Jesus on the corner
of Xrosswood Drive and Main
he had no dime to take of His own Sacrament
to rejoin the Flocking
spent on broken glass and and stockings
stuffed with yestern pain

coasting to the Depot
He showed me His wounds once again
pictures of his Children in another State
with Nothing on their P(i)lates

wheels and wheels of fortune mists
and portends, omens, twists and opportunities missed
a Mystery to be wearing Flesh
the Way of Gentle Fists

“Mother is worried about me.”
He confided as I parallel parked on Front Street
“I’ll only be a Minute, you can’t come in.”

with Great difficulty, hobbled by the Weight of Worlds’ Forgotten
Hero hobbling to a side door Sacrament
on Front Street

I think of leaving
Him, fleeing at the site
a fleeting Glimpse of where I’ve been
and seem to Moth around

days of yours and mine,
“Here… take this…”
“Are you sure you want two?”

wheels and wheels of wasted twists
Realities cast aside for Aethers’ Fists, the Gentle Fists,
the numbing wrists and opportunities’ mists

and Jesus wept
as we broke an Orange Pill in half in Sacrament
of helpless Bliss