gazing in the mirror,
you scoop up a gob
of greasepaint,
smearing it all over
your face,
adding the candy-red
gumdrop nose,
dabbing mauve stars,
mustard moons,
and iridescent comets
on your cheeks;
you pull on
the polka dotted suit,
the baggy sleeves
stuffed with grace;
sticking the seltzer bottle
filled with living water
in your back pocket;
you pull on your
three-times-too-big
scuffed shoes
and squeeze uncomfortably
into the kiddie car
disguised as a
firetruck;
waving and honking
the big-bulbed horn
you drive through
our lives,
calling out:
'wanna see Jesus?
. . . follow me!'
(c) Thom M. Shuman
Venmo: @Thom-Shuman
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