Pizza And Pontius Pilate by Ben Newell

The delivery guy
drives these streets in a convertible Trans Am
painted red, white, and blue
replete with stars to compliment the wooden crucifix
tethered to the trunk with bungy cords,
reminding all of us that HE died
for our sins.

And this could very well be true, perhaps HE did die
for our sins—

But, hey, there’s a time and place for everything
and I can’s speak for you,
wouldn’t even try
but I don’t want to be reminded of such weighty issues when drunk
and starving
and in dire need of substantial sustenance
to soak up the alcohol
so that I can sober up
and jerk off
before I go to bed.

Ben Newell, 44, works as a library clerk at a small college in Jackson, Mississippi. Recent pub credits include Full of Crow, misfitmagazine, Nerve Cowboy, Pink Litter, Red Fez, and Your One Phone Call. He likes hot weather, ice cold beer, and reads far too many books about serial killers.

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