A man walks into a bar.
No, I mean a bank
as he withdraws five hundred dollars,
orders a Vesper with two olives.
His wife likes olives.
Outside, the streets are lined
with waiting faces.
The pope arrives
with a direct line to the gods.
Hallowed halls open wide.
Singing, as in hallelujah,
enlarges the dialogue.
Inclusive has its moment
in the papal prayers.
The man will order one more Vesper,
this time with an onion.
Intoxication ripples its newly
even as he sobers in the wide, bright
*this is the first in a three-day series of poems The Opiate is publishing by Peggy Aylsworth. Peggy is 94 & a retired psychotherapist.
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