January 20, 2021

Jesus or Charlie Manson

“Hello?” she swore she heard,
then,
almost in smirk,
came the word, “Hello?” again.
Elizabeth looked up from the work.
She was knitting sweaters
and nearly done one,
ready for a little break.
She rose from her expensive chair,
which relieved back-ache and
went to the diamond shaped window
where
daylight peeked in.
Elizabeth peeked out.

There is magic enough about
any single day to
cause the curious wonderment.
Elizabeth was one of those.
Sometimes,
her piqued imagination
examined the deep purple
sky’s situation,
researching what a sound of distant
thunder meant.
Sometimes,
a finished book, returned to the shelf,
included ‘additonal study’ notes
she’d written herself.
Just now, seeking informaton more,
following where facts led,
she went to the door,
actively thinking, “What’s that little,
‘hello’, for?”

She raised her head,
saw It wasn’t morning light alone
shone in,
knew there was much to know
about the type and source of such
an extra glow,
so the heavy wooden door,
usually kept closed against attack,
eased a crack.
She offered a timid “Hello?” back.

His long hair in disarray,
a booklet-bearing tanned man
stood there,
clothing rumpled like he didn’t care
what the neighbours might say.
Elizabeth’s first private thought was
“Uhg…”
then her better mind held sway
bringing curiousity to boil and buzz
away.

She mentioned, “That mark on your forehead…
what does it mean?” before realizing
he was merely unclean and
he breathed back, “Do you know Jesus?”
“uum…yeah,” she smart-alecky said,
“wasn’t he one of the Grateful Dead?”