The Three Day Rule
Lean in, Milord, said Pilgrim to The Nazarene
My advice, is yes, this tax collector’s house is nice
The servants bring platters of figs and kamut
Big pomegranates, medjool dates and almonds every
afternoon
And the tax collector makes us laugh
But don’t forget, he is the tax collector
His wife is fun and flirty
His daughters tease, such beautiful breasts
Especially the youngest one
Think, Milord: jail bait, trouble makers, teenage summer
love
Isn’t it time we moved along
Toward Jerusalem?
Pilgrim and The Nazarene did nothing the rest of the day
The sun kicked in
The dust blew through the courtyard
That night they drank and made up hymns
And drunk, they started down the road
The dangerous walk to Jerusalem
The Nazarene leaned in to Pilgrim, a mile along the way
I agree: it was
time to leave
After three days
The tax collector will stop making jokes
His wife will complain we ate all her figs
And the servants will grumble for gratuities
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