i’m sure it was dream

i was in the strip club

a place i haven’t been to in what feels like a very long time

my first inkling it was a dream was the music was very un-strip club

the song was forest fire by the dead kennedys

i looked around in the dark room for the dj booth to give him a thumbs up in song choice

nothing screams bare breasts and beer like a song about a yuppie and his addiction trying to figure out if he is going to save his wife or the cocaine from the fire

my next clue this wasn’t really real was the dancer

the virgin mary was dressed in a diaphonous blue gown

and she was working the pole

i don’t know how i knew it was her

but i was positive it was her

the tears of blood were kind of a dead give away

there is no more confused erection than the one that comes from the alleged mother of god spinning slowly head first down the brass pole erection

the hidden announcer said to have those singles ready

and the music transitioned to personal jesus

this was weird

but i had my singles ready to make it rain

she crawled seductively across the stage toward me

my arms moved unbidden to slide a dollar into her bedazzled thong

she winked and kept on gyrating to the song

i got up and headed to the bar to get another overpriced beer

the bartender eyed me funny

he was a white guy with long brown hair and blue eyes

i heard a crash and turned to see a group of japanese tourists stumbling about

they were clearly inebriated

when i turned back the bartender was setting me beer on a cheap coaster and as i went to tip i froze

he was now black with chemically straightened hair

like a pimp from a blacksplotation movie from the seventies

i blinked and he’s middle eastern

he nodded as he took my twenty and brought my change back to me in singles

as he did i noticed wounds on the back of his hands

and a bloody smear on his side

i shouted over the music to him

are you jesus

he nodded and lifted his glass of water and waved his hand over it

it turned blood red

show off i yelled

he nodded again and walked away as i dropped three bills into the tip jar

mary magdalena shaking her breasts to a roaring crowd

and the men in black with little white collars nod approvingly

hips swaying to the beat

i had a dream where i was in the strip club

a place i hadn’t been for what felt like a very long time

sipping sangria with lively senoritas strained through stigmata stereotypes

it felt like blasphemy but i wasn’t in control of the narrative

and i don’t believe enough to be the best blasphemer i can be

so i slipped the virgin mother a five spot

and mary magdalena a ten

and jesus walked on water to serve me watered down pitchers of holy spirits

when i awoke the following day i had glitter in my beard

and my sheet looked like the shroud of turin

a wad of crumpled dollar bills in my pants pocket and a few drink chips with a fish on them

and jesus walking on the water stuck in my head

another victim of strip club stigmata stereotypes

hungover from blasphemous cocktails and strobe lit images of strangely seductive blurs