‘Liturgical Day’

His individualized ringtone sounds,

And Momentary Man wakens from his slumber.

Since he likes to sleep and hates his job,

He is already running late.

As he revels in the taste

Of his latest pre-packaged

Breakfast food, he praises himself

For this great find of his,

While closing the blinds

So what little of the sun and sky and birds

That are peeping into his kitchen

Will not distract him

From the gruesome glee

Of the TV news infotainers

Or the inspirational vanity

Of the latest Facebook posts.

This done, he showers and brushes his teeth

So he will be hygienically clean for the office.

Now at work, he stands before his desk,

And utters the customary curse

Before assuming the prescribed seated position.

Steadily typing, with a few breaks

To give fuel to the machine-body,

The day passes, bathed in fluorescent light,

Garish purple-green.

Evening has come. 

With paycheck in hand, he hurries to Holy Bank

Where lives Mammon, his incarnate god.

There he waits in line with fear and trembling

To receive his portion of the blessed sacraments,

The precious body and blood of the deity,

From the priestess behind the window pane:

The paper and ink of the money stored and handled

With such great care.  He partakes, then leaves,

Bright and happy.  He has seen the true light.

He enters the bar as the sun sets

To wash away the bad memories that remain

With alcohol, and loud talk and laughter

With his girlfriend and the other patron-parishioners.

Together they fill the night with their shouts and songs,

And at dismissal, a little kiss with his latest girl

Fulfills the mystery of lonely togetherness.

The streetlights that block out the starlight

Guide him through the dead desert parking lot.

All settled in, his motorized wheel-cage carries him back

To his apartment where he will await

With loathing the day ahead.

Half a world away, in a quiet Serbian village,

The church bells are ringing, calling all the people,

High-born and low-born, young and old, rich and poor,

To Evening Prayer, to the worship of God,

The Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost,

To entrust themselves and one another

And all their lives unto Christ their God.

By Walt Garlington