My Big Fat Excommunication

I stare at the old church from across the street in my
Car remembering when I was a regular
A parishioner
A donator with envelopes
It was at least a hundred years ago when I took that
Walk down the aisle with husband #1 in an ivory gown that
Weighed more than I did in true Italian style with
21 bridesmaids parading to the altar
The ceremony lasted longer than the marriage
And the church only recognizes till death do we part
Now I’m a regular at another landmark
Julie’s Place has a lot of similarities to that old church
It’s full of sinners donating to the cause
In any given corner there is always some pontifical know it all
Who overdosed on loud-mouth soup preaching to his fellow
Imbibers on the evils of society
There are weekly worshippers and those who visit daily
And though it may not look like a confessional Al or Nicky
Will listen to almost anything for the right price
On Saturday evenings at about 5:30 the place is packed
Just like that old church
And don’t kid yourself—all the regulars are waiting for a miracle
Praying for redemption
Some of them will even be on their knees before the night ends

Al pours me another drink and I look around
The only thing missing are the pews and the nuns
I’ve donated enough so I head home taking the long way past
Our Lady of Pompei and I decide to go in for a prayer or two—but
The doors are locked
Bolted shut like Fort Knox
Just like Julie’s Place at 2 am only it’s a lot earlier
Or maybe it’s later than I think
Maybe I should make a choice between Holy water and Grey Goose
I’ll give it some thought tomorrow
While I’m down on my knees

"Piano in New Orleans" Photograph by Brian Ferguson