Published on: 22-Apr
I'm just about to ink the bottom line
on a compact luxury sedan. The sales
rep, fresh from college, vaguely serpentine,
raises his polished head, and then exhales.
"A guy your age? You should be living large!"
He jerks his big thumb towards the showroom aisle,
towards something luminescent as the barge
that floated Cleopatra down the Nile.
"Good God," I say. He fingers the gold cross
that's fallen out the front of his golf shirt.
"Would Jesus drive a little POS?
Not if He really wants you to convert!"
The Holy Spirit moves me, says, "I'll pass.
Jerusalem's accessible by ass."