He felt the need to tell me I look like...
even if he saw a resemblance, how,
for the love of Christ Almighty, could he
even for a moment find a photo,
lifelike representations in art, for
the image of Jesus was in the Word,
the Word was God, and the Word was with God,
heaven knows in the beginning, the Word
exists as the sole representation,
no need to tell me I look like Jesus,
ever since I grew out my beard, people
entered a moment of entitlement,
decidedly, they felt the need to speak,
to tell me what they could not possibly...
obviously, I am not mistaken,
to imagine people see Jesus Christ,
even as wishful thinking, they are wrong,
let me say this, no one would recognize,
let alone embrace the messiah, for
me, I hear it as a threat from far off,
enter the voice of Spirit, imagine
I walk downtown and people see Jesus,
like people would recognize him again,
on the street, ordering mango smoothies,
obviously, I am not mistaken,
kill me if I am, as you did Jesus,
lame little lamb crossing the road, I walk
in the crosswalk at State and Madison,
kill me here and now, here in Chicago,
epicenter of the Apocalypse.
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