The service is running long
and it sounds like
the preacher’s talking foreign
a lot of the time.

I can’t help but wonder:
how did I get here?
This is not my personal church.
That is not my personal Jesus.
It’s gonna take a train to pull me through this
– and nothing good
can come from that.

Of course,
something else could save me.
Deliver me, please,
from impatience.
Sister, I need wine
to consume
and take my mind off
this wretched god.

Let me drink
for liberty.
Let me drink
to forget my dumb decision
to try this church.
Let me drink
to get drunk
and erase this stupid stupid Sunday.