Story Poem, Nr.12 — Tale of an Evangelical Christianity Survivor

Don’t know why others didn’t see it -  
the halo, I mean - two metres off the ground  
and bobbing down a crowded high-street on its own  
with no-one underneath it.  
“Here’s my chance” I thought “to experience a day in the life  
of a saint”.  
Doing a U-turn I ran  
to catch it up. Glancing nervously upwards,  
I tried to stay aligned, avoiding crashing into others  
and slowly began to feel its fit, like a hat.  
My gait tuned in. Soon it felt  
we were one  
until, that is,  
it/I/we crossed a bridge  
with a snow-swollen river raging quietly underneath.  
Next I found myself climbing up a lamp-post  
onto a narrow ledge preparing to  
jump.  
“O.K, it’s enough now …” I thought  
“… bad idea”.  
Attempting to climb down from the madness, limpet-like the halo wouldn’t let go.  
It dragged me by the head, as I balanced, teetering on the the cusp of a  
railing, pulling me as I tried to break free. Suddenly I was falling.  
The thrashing water iced my veins. My weak skull  
banged on various rocks. I struggled  
upwards but the halo pulled  
me further under -  
drowning.  
 
When they found me I was almost dead.  
A beautiful woman jump-started my libido  
and gradually warmed me up  
wrapping herself around me until I normalised.  
Eventually recovering presence of mind  
I thanked her, asking “… and who are you?”  
“Eve” she replied “I do this for the living”.