A faith healer comes to town and I go to see him but I wind up lame. I do exactly as he says, throwing away my crutch and crying "Hallelujah!" but I end up face down in the snow. What am I doing wrong? There must be a trick he's not telling us, a book that I can buy for further study. I look in the mirror and see a calm woman who knows all the secrets but she might as well be ten thousand miles away at the bottom of a great dead sea.
The faith healer steals out of town one frosty early morning wearing a red fez and a flowered housecoat. He's cut short his engagement without telling a soul. I'm the only one who sees him leaving. As his tour bus pulls out of the Dunkin' Donuts parking lot, I throw away my crutch, cry "Hallelujah!", and fall face-first in the snow for what feels like the millionth time. I don't blame anyone reading this for thinking the solution was going to be as easy as that. Because, frankly, I did, too.
No comments:
Post a Comment