Retail Therapy

I called for God yesterday

but

no God, no God,

only

Prozac, white wine and Buddha

Buddha was a human who tried

but could not find God.

I had no choice

but to go shopping

for God

in the multiplex

of instant salvation

up and down that escalator

in search

of over- the- counter redemption

I had

to get in line

behind the

nameless,

faceless masses

and squeeze myself into

the over-booked calendar

of my dear Father Confessor.

The waiting room was crowded,

with the sound of restless fingers

flipping female magazines,

with the noise of nervous fingers,

flicking cigarette ashes

with the hum of messages

sent out on flashy mobile phones

Finally, my turn.

Peace came over me

as Father Confessor

bends over the black leather couch

his face so mild and gentle,

his manner so middle-of-the road

his hair parted right down the middle

He gave me peace, love and understanding

in short , punchy soundbytes.

He dispensed faith, hope and love

in small, convenient doses.

Quick in, quick out.

30 minutes flat.

I paid at the counter

with my Amex Gold card

picked up my ration

of designer pills

that will last till

my next confession.

I thanked God

for healing without complications

I thanked God

for salvation in small installments

Most of all,

I thanked God

for helping me find God

when I thought there was

no God, no God

only Prozac , white wine and

my Father Confessor.