Listen to Wesley McNair read this poem.
On the religious program the visiting pastor is roasting the host behind the desk about how much weight he put on. The host comes right back about the pastor’s hairline. Are they trying to show God enjoys a good joke, like us? When the mood changes and the camera moves closer to the host’s pressed eyelids, does he believe his promise that we will know the meaning of Christ’s sacrifice if we send him the pledge he requests of us? There is nobody to ask. It is one o’clock in the morning, and the streets are rainy and dark outside the TV store where ten hosts are praying all at once in different flesh tones. A woman pushing a shoppingcart walks by wearing their faces and the repeated red color of the host’s tie on her back. Passing cars flash streaks of flesh and red from their closed windows.