He told me that he was a fixin’
to kill a prominent politician.
Wry smiles came from his fellow patrons
As he explained his deal with the ancients.
Jesus arranged the intricate details
along with the boys, a group of angels
Who set on a sum of many millions
they’d bill to world leaders for the killin.’
Christmas lights danced off the can in his hand
that waved as he weaved, unable to stand.
After his loud oration, he announced
the pay’d go in the “Pete loves beer account!”
in the bank of heaven.
As he laughed at the politician’s fate
regulars laughed in his sunken old face
I couldn’t help thinking
His first time swaying by lights and garland
when the smiles of watchers weren't so hardened.
Joe Couture is a writer living in rural Nova Scotia. He writes for his health. If you want to connect with him, try here: @rjcouture.bsky.social
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