The Son of Man

"You want me to wrap this linen sheet around my waist...."

He positively nods without the sway of a nay.

"You want me to put this branched with twigs circular ring around my forehead?"

He is without doubt.

"I can do that."

"I know you can.......I have faith in you."

I whole heartedly agree; sisters are momentary nunnery. Godly intervention churns shea butter from the Karite tree.

"Here she comes!"

"What is she doing?"

"It looks like she's bowing on a stone and touching her forehead with her fingers. She's doing something to her shoulders. Okay now she's looking around to see if anybody can hear her cursing. I think she's talking to the god in question."

"Okay great.....hang me on this damned cross!"

This story is debatable cynicism, nature of the world we live; every notion battles respect and disrespect. We disregard emotions searching for self righteous conflict.

"I know not what I do....."

Bungee hooks wrap my wrists and legs into foam grips; the cross is sanded wood posted into an uneven target the disciple of newspapers cannot miss. I wear a chest imprint t-shirt and an itchy wool beard.

Comrade muffles a tin copper funnel camouflaged as shrubbery.

"Sister Marie! I came to tell you about the good news!"

She is alert; herbal eyes redden transition from spiritual inclination.

"This man is in pain!"

"Don't you remember his name?"

He looks at me as if I am the glossary of gods and demons.

"Uggghhh......oh........ouch..........ugh....."

Trying not to burst the balloon of air chuckles he confirms his last sentence.

"This man suffers greatly!"

"Fock shitte!"

He looks at me; her profuse words implicate belief.

"Well you tell him I had nothing to do with it!"

"Sister we all have sinned and come short of the glory of......"

He looks at me as if I am the glossary of gods and demons.

"The Son of Man!"

"This man the son right here on the wood hanging on with dearness!"

Marie turns to each side then swings around; her gown catches inflation revealing a hidden fire engine red corset mini dress.

"Oh Lord take me now!!!"

"See what you have done!"

His voice is booming commentary from a baseball stadium.

"Well you tell him that little linen is a terrible fashion statement."

My giggling wriggling body is convincing.

"He is wearing it for you!"

"Well he needs to reconsider because I do not find it the least bit fabulous nor am I at all a willing participant in his obvious tackiness."

"Ugh.....Ooooooh......."

Gemini nods gentle recognition for the finale.

"He is dying you know!"

"Dying of bad taste if you ask me....."

"He is......"

He looks at me as if I am the official glossary of gods and demons; he cannot live without me.

"Fucking Jesus! What the fuck!"

"Well he curses as much as I do!"

She is incidentally humorous. Gemini is baffled; he free styles an unintelligent whim.

"Well he is fucking Jesus you know!"

"He sort of looks like Butta with a wool woven beard."

I assure him with a manly nod the Son will rise to hoax again.

"He' s dying you know! He will be gone! Repent for the bad news!"

"If I don't get me focking good news soon I will die too!"

"This is a vision! Take this with you as we search for reason in the chaos of mankind!"

"I got to tell Butta about this one but he's going to tell me it is another one of those things.....just another one of those things we be seeing without knowing how. This time I do believe that is a real man on a wood projection from what looks to be a volleyball cemented bucket post but he has to get up there somehow."

Stray strands suddenly tickle my nose.

"He is the son of man!"

"I do believe he sneezed as well."