The Missionaries
I’m splattered in ink, sweatpants,
Four Roses T-shirt.
A couple of children in their Sunday best knock on my door. They haven’t practiced their introductions very much yet.
I offer them water. As you can see,
I’m a hedonistic transsexual with no desire to be saved.
Do you need to borrow a phone? Are they feeding you enough? Is your coat warm enough? The children say goodbye and trudge through the snow.
Every religion believes in peace and love to some extent, I think. Tonight I’m wishing peace and love
to all the little missionaries and their mothers,
even if they don’t always wish it for me.
MORRIS MCLENNAN
