Good Friday

I dreamed sugar sweet pink Peeps

lined the road to the Supreme Court,

waved palm fronds and sang Hosannas.

Redneck, washed up Nashville musicians

played three part, off key harmony

and got drunk on cheap beer.

Chocolate bunnies masquerading

as chickens in drag

scattered colored eggs for Eostre

upon the state house lawn,

because it made the children happy.

A Klezmer band played on marble steps

while Pentecostal believers

danced themselves into a frenzy,

fell down in rapture

and spoke in an Aramaic tongue.

Preachers passed collection plates

that smelled of grape juice and yeast,

gathered the money up in bags

and drove away in shiny Cadillacs.

Luke took notes

before the sky went too dark to see

so as not to desecrate Shabbat.

Because someday, someone

might want to write a book

and he didn’t want the Roman press

to control the narrative.

Jesus watched from the top of a hill

with two converted revolutionaries

and cried out, “Father, forgive them

for they know not what they do.”