Salvation Soup

Here I am outside the gates of paradise, God's stenographer, waiting for my master's voice to say the words-"Take a letter Miss Jones." I didn't even dress for the occasion. Just dragged myself out of bed trailing sheets, threw on my bathrobe and now I sit here at the gates like Lazarus waiting for a scrap from the rich man's table. My mind is a stew of hacked up thoughts and fragments of dreams, layers of onion or wallpaper peeled, the information floating haphazard in lifeboats. Here Marilyn Monroe wears a Mae West with Mae West and Jayne Mansfield. The oarsmen pull. Joe DiMaggio's oar is a bat. Arthur Miller dips a long pencil into the sea of stew. The lifeboat is filled with images cross-referenced to this platinum haired Bacchante in the Leopard skin shirt and the shocking pink capri pants and the rhinestone-studded sunglasses. Goddess of Love. Isis. Aphrodite reborn. Venus on the Half Shell.

What do I know of love? What do I know of the divine?

All I know is that every day when Adam and Eve wake up, the gates of paradise are open wide, but they never seem to notice. Lured by the fleshpots of the Mega$tore, they never see the entrance to paradise. Too many sale signs at the Mega$tore. Big Sale on Apples. Half-price. Everything must go.

Salvation Soup-3 for a $1.00! Stock up now. Adam and Eve stock up but never even open a can, saving it for an emergency, I guess. Check the directions on the can. Just add sanctifying grace and heat to boiling. Stir occasionally.