in a land called America…

and he drove ‘cross America in a manic state…behind the wheel of an old mint green Dodge he’d bought from a priest…it was a good deal…priests never lie…

got it for $500 and one holy sacrement…God only knows what unholy things would take place in it…the running into America in search of love…lust…carnal knowledge…six packs and twelve packs and twenty-four cases…in cities like Chicago…New York…D.C. …Philly…parked under street lights listening to jazz on the local public radio stations while cigarette smoke fills the air and bums walk by askin’…, do you have a light…could you spare one…I’m very hungry…how ’bout a buck or two…

and he gives and gives and gives til he can’t give no more…’cause that’s what Jesus would do…so he follows the commandments right down to a tee…sharing his wine and bread with those who need…wine and bread…the hungry…the drunks…the poor…those that chose other options than the straight path…knowing that these are the people…God’s chosen people…taking them into his arms and comforting them from a world that mocks and hisses at them as they walk down the street…for these are the ones that need love most…

so he drives past cornfields in Indiana…Illinois…past power plants in states where it would seem as though God gave up on the people…brown cornfields…crops shrinking…begging for rain in the hot Summer sun as children sell newspapers on street corners of small town America and moms make cornbread in black iron skillets with bacon drippings and a hamhock split four different ways…every little bit is eaten and no-body dares to ask for more…

then he goes into the South…Texas…Arkansas…Mississippi…sweet smells of alfalfa linger in the air while poor Mexicans pick and pull cotton with their shirts off as sweat rolls from their brown skin…women at home making tortillas…tamales…beans and rice…making the most of America…the land of the plentiful…a place where dreams come true…

his journey will never end…an on-slaught of feeding the poor…clothing the naked…praying with sinners in the streets…the fields…backroads…on mountain tops reaching to a father who knows best…and knows the souls of us all…in a land called America…

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