The Death of Redemption
I met the messiah on an overcast morn
While we both stood in line for the dole.
Frostbite nights in his carton on Montegue St.
Had visibly taken their toll.
Still, the smile that he gave me promised some hope
As we shared a cold throwaway
“Remember son, that the game must be won before you reach the end of day”.
I didn’t see him the following week
Though I thought that I once heard his voice.
I started work as a fast food temp
I didn’t really have any choice.
A glimpse of a smile on a hamburger pile
Was surely an illusion, no more.
Still it helped me get by through the ketchup and fries
It was something I could not ignore.
Several weeks went by or maybe more
I hadn’t given him a thought
I didn’t see him on a slice of toast
Or in the coffee that I bought.
Then one night on the 7 P. M. fright
The newsman aired his face.
He had starred in a six car pileup
They said it was a real disgrace.
What kind of chance does a Messiah on a donkey have
When he’s faced with a Buick in heat?
And so the story sadly ended
No hope of redemption, just a pile of red dead meat.