I completely forgot about the occasion. Then something reminded me, then being reminded reminded me of a poem I wrote. You may have read it in the 2008 edition of a college lit magazine. If not:
If It Exists, Me and My Dirty Feet Are Going to Hell
My feet are so dirty from walking around the city all day in flip-flops.
A chunk of tar got jammed in the back of them and the heel of my
foot looks like Christians’ foreheads on Ash Wednesday.
Ash Wednesday was always my least favorite obligatory
church-going day. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…”
I haven’t been to church in ages. Mom used to ask me to
go with her again, but on Easter Sunday she didn’t.
“And back to dust you shall return.”
Probably because I told her how I don’t like
the Book of Genesis. It’s so sexist. I told her it
sucks that Eve’s supposed transgression tainted
all women for eternity. I’m glad she ate that apple!
Girl power! Stupid serpent. Stupid Adam.
I don’t see anyone blaming them. Or how about God?
He created the tree.
The Bible is weird. Religion is weird.
But people believe and I guess that’s good.
I don’t know when I stopped. Maybe I never did
in the first place.
I should wash my feet. That one time in the Bible
people washed Jesus’ feet. Good for him.
I can do it myself.