There is a nice breeze. Seating out by the work room.

Rico is next to me. I have a beautiful shining little lamp on this table.

The glass is half empty. But, there is bottle full of red one waiting.

Bills have to be paid tomorrow.

The Vatican has not transferred me any moneys.

I am starting not to believe in the God of the Jews anymore.

I can not wait forty years! I may have two or three more…but forty….?

I don’t want to see the Promised Land…I just want to see…some land…

With some palm trees…an Oasis to quench my thirst…

With two or three beautiful girls dancing in nude feet…

Showing bellies…contortionist arms…hips touching East and West…

Coming to me to give me a kiss.

But going back to paying my bills.

How come the Pope does not answer my calls?

He is eager to get my money…

But not to talk to me…is he a fraud…?

Looks like he is a fraud. A major fraud. A conman.

A Padrote. Taking my money by abusing of my ignorance which

is as big as the Pacific. But without fish.

Am I the only one…?

I wander…what does the old man does with so much money…?

He does not work. Really. Anybody can get up at six and pray.

And then what? He has not found the cure for cancer…

You see, even talking to the Big guy in the Penthouse.

He is a pretender. A sweet operator. A big talker of lies.

He tells you Jesus loves you and cares about you.

Have you ever met Jesus…? No. No one has.

Last time he was seen around around was more than two thousand

years ago. The poor man had just came back to life after a cruel

crucifixion and was hungry and thirsty. When he saw some old

comrades and told them he was in need.

But, going back to paying my bills.

I guess I’l go to my bank and ask for an extension credit line.

Thank you so much sweet Pope and Jesus.

I understand. I understand.

Ernesto Onofre