Wandawoowoo’s Childhood Pastor

Interior of a bar with glasses and drinks behind the counter

Photo credit: Lana Graves on Unsplash

I didn’t fall
away from the church—I ran,
though I liked many of the people.
Mrs. Larch had babysat me.
Mr. Edwards rescued me

from drowning. Both believed
that the Earth was 6000 years old,
no less real than believing Elvis
sang on the moon. I hadn’t expected
to see pastor here at Cal’s Tap.

Our pleasantries floated toward
evolution. To my surprise,
he said he believed it, licking salt
off the margarita glass. This could
get him fired. When I told him

I had an abortion, he shrugged,
picked up the tab. Secrets
and a smell of French fries,
the light outside the door,
beautiful, blinding.

Kenneth Pobo has a new book of prose poems out from Clare Songbirds Publishing House called The Antlantis Hit Parade. In May, his book called Dindi Expecting Snow will appear from Duck Lake Books. He teaches creative writing and English at Widener University in Pennsylvania. He and his husband like to garden.