(As I drove to Saturday afternoon Confession, a little girl, guarded by mom and dad, waved to me from her lemonade stand.)
On the way to Confession, little lady,
I longed indeed to buy your lemonade—
But I’m a figure two shades south of shady,
And heavy guilt upon my shoulders made
My soul drive on. I drove, confessed, and prayed—
Although it’s true I had to wait in line
To see the priest. My debt was charged and paid
At the week’s end. Confession went just fine.
Then back I rushed to where your hand-made sign
Advertised an acidic potable.
But, when I passed your corner, girl – ach, nein!—
You were not there, and anguish filled my skull.
It had spilled from my tortured soul, I guess.
I had another failure to confess.
(First appeared in Blue Unicorn, v. 37, n. 1, October 2013.)