Crucified Man

Dimmed hair
too dyed to care
you shuffle having another of those
sensations in your troubled feet.

Lunch again
another hard chair,
as your old girlfriend
washing her underwear.

Why are you still here
crucified man,
you should be dead
or was your crucifixion
a continuous affair.

Somewhere in the 80’s
you knew who you were,
now a distant memory
on a beach in a masculine sea.

Swallowing a sausage
waiting for the inevitable,
as she gets to the bit
where you met after your
thousandth hostess.

A drifting thought
keeps whispering past your
dyed ear
am I Jesus, or was
I just crucified and survived.