Status Updates From Edju

(Of the Lord's Supper . . .) We sat in awe as the little wafer grew a beard and bones and we ate him and he squealed like a rat as he slithered down us all.

I take the crossed twigs tied into the shape of a cross with twine from my drawer. The Lady of Snow will bless it and I will eat it and I will be pure. I stand by the window, Alice at my feet, and watch the holy procession march on below. There are the golden umbrellas. The ballerinas on imaginary high wires. The city elders in their top hats and canes. Bearded, gray and important. . . .

The ticket-taker scene = Mr. Bean. Bodies in an uncooperative world. I just can’t get enough of writing like this.