Daydreaming in the Pew

Thursday, April 28th, 2011



There’s no real reason for it

Except, no concept of time maybe.

I don’t even try to stop it anymore.


Mass at eleven,

I leave my house at eleven.

No intention of getting there


For the grand procession.

If someone were to ask me what happens

During the first ten minutes of mass


I couldn’t tell them.  Bad Catholic.

I figure as long as I make it in time for the

Gospel, I’m getting my holy dose.


But there have been those times

When I was running later than usual

With wet, straggly hair from the shower


And the doors to the Church were no longer

Open, inviting worshippers.

I would pull the door with the timidness


Of a young child, trying to be discreet.

But the heavy, creaking door

Gave me no chance of entering subtly.


The priest, in the middle of his homily

Would glare at me as I snuck in, barely

Genuflecting before joining the back row. 





Church is one of the best places

To people watch.

Picking a seat in the back row


You have the advantage of seeing

Every parishioner’s every move.

During the Eucharist


you can speculate why

certain people remain

seated, if they committed


amortal sin or aren’t even catholic.

Imagining their moral downfalls

Is much more entertaining though.




It’s peculiar that different

Sins don’t always merit different



Three people can confess to a

Priest, one about cursing,

One about cheating,


One about lying and they

Will all have to say

Three Hail Mary’s


Before they’re wiped clean

And on their merry way.

I wonder if a priest has


Ever told a sinner to

Scrub the floor of the Church

Or wash dishes before he can leave freely.