Good Catholics
Hey what do you say Joe? Been down the road awhile and seen the way to go?
Left the church? Or it left you? You wonder about it, about the end, about the spirit, about where we go after it's all over. You know the old joke, the Catholics in hell fire, everyone else playing golf, they could be playing golf too, but they insist on punishment, insist on being tied and whipped, insist on the self-mortification.
What about you Tom? Has life been good enough, has work been fair?
What happened in the Nam? Those injured off the port bow, as the ship's doctor you wanted to help, wanted the sailors to bring them aboard, but the captain said no. Said if you wanted to save them so bad you go by yourself. Too risky and dangerous you thought, so you stood down and said no thanks, it haunts you to this day.
You needed more courage or was it the right thing?
It's like a ride you get on and can't get off. Like a box you crawl into and can't crawl out. You are the man in the box, the man in the cell of your own making. You were just living, trying your best, but someone judged it wasn't good enough and you bought into the appraisal, found yourself wanting, found yourself in trouble again, time to climb aboard the ride, down you go, down, down, and into the fun-house of guilt.
What about it Joe, what about the ride? Are you getting on too? Here we go down, down, down, down.
Remember Tom, you were just a small kid looking out the window, you saw the dogs doing it in the front yard and you saw your sister in the living-room and went up behind her just like those dogs. You pretended you were a dog doing it to your sister. Father saw and said “Mother, look at this!”
He beat the hell out of you, you didn't know what it meant, you just saw the animals doing it.
Your first big ride. Your first taste of the guilt machine eating you up piece by piece.
And you Joe, a good Catholic, just like Tom, both of you know the ride.
You know. You've been frequent fliers, repeat passengers.
Well, next time the conductor calls “All aboard,”
don't,
get,
on.
(Above image: "Gondola of Guilt" by Allen Forrest)