Christ descended on the Vagabond Inn,
Involved himself in a domestic dispute
Inside, where inbred outcasts burn with sin
In what was once a place of ill repute.
Now they scatter at the first gunshot wound,
Gnaw when they talk, express any feeling with a loud
Slamming of doors, faces, the chaos of utter ruin
Impels them back and away like a cloud
Of brown rain, taking the nothing for the taking,
Sweating poison on barren fields, tattooed and maimed.
The inarticulate shriek while those who can formulate
Confuse themselves and bore everyone in range.
Christ brings down a Thermos of forgiveness
To share like coffee in the wilderness.
