afternoon picnic with supply-side jesus
he shifts his big bifocal glasses up the bridge
of his nose and smirks a little. no, no, he says,
this is how paradise is made: we compromise.
you give a little & i take it. then you give a little,
then i take it. i give you what i think you need,
that is, i tell you what you need & you need it.
as he says this he cleaves a little clementine:
you can’t just print money til everybody has
enough. so i ask him why not. he says, my son,
& puts his hand on my shoulder so jesusly, oh
my son. i tell him some days i believe in nothing
but my eventual self-immolation, that it’ll hurt,
that it’ll happen, that it’ll be on the national
mall, that it’ll be on the national news, that
the patch of grass i leave razed in my wake
will stay black & dormant til he comes back
in what do they call it in the bible? a blaze
of glory. he glances at my car. a bumper
sticker reads: i’d rather be eating locusts
in the wilderness. another says repent.
he says the bible never says blaze of
glory, but matthew says flash of light-
ning. destruction is destruction, i say &
he takes his hand off my shoulder. he wants
to talk more about modern monetary theory.
i tell him my theory on money: i tell him he’s
supposed to hate it. it’s right there in the book.
& he laughs at me. you can find whatever
you’re looking for in there.
blakekathryn
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