Call Me Pontius

If Jesus came back
as a strung out heroin addict
shuffling along
in such a drunken stupor
that you'd swear he was leaning
at a forty five degree angle
and looked at you
with tears streaming down his face
and mumbled about
needing seventeen dollars
for a bus ticket to Virginia
with so much pain in his voice
it hurt to listen
on one of the coldest nights
in recent memory
then asked if he could come in
to warm up,
what would you do?

I ran inside and started pouring coffee
while my wife most prudently
called the centurions
who showed up rather quickly
and subsequently took him away
to be persecuted
until they investigated
and found he was from Utica
but had a warrant in Buffalo.
They didn't want him,
apparently no one did.