"Here," he said as he came
down from the altar and dropped the ring carelessly
into the shaking, sweaty palm of his arbitrary successor.
"It's not for anything that you did right
but something that I did wrong."
Confusion swept across all but one set of eyes.
'Lohengrin' played in the background, unparenthetically
as the audience pretended to clean their nails in the pews.
A great weight had been lifted from his shoulders when
he remembered all the things he'd yet to accomplish
and suddenly had the alacrity to pursue.
The pen in his pocket twitched against his thigh
as three collective pounds of mascara in the room
tried it's hardest not to follow suit and run.
All he had left to fear was an unbreakable date
with a really hot barbecue at some undetermined time
and even that didn't seem as bad as the alternative
since there would be no rehearsals.
She fainted as the door closed silently behind him.
The priest tried reviving her with holy water.
The organist told her father that he'd still receive a bill.
"Taxi!" he yelled as he raised his right hand sincerely
and for the first time ever it worked.
His suit, of course, was blue.
Currently reading:
"Raise High the Roof Beam" by J.D. Salinger.
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