The Tale Of How I Met The Holy Savior Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka

The first time I met Jesus was in Paris on the way to visit
the Notre Dame Cathedral. At the time I was still young.
and trailed my parents in the Metro and was much in love
and all I really wanted was to meet Esmeralda.

I had a giant crush on her despite my being10 years old
seeing her, not quite innocently, cavorting with Quasimodo.
Back then I knew nothing about dirty old men but I was
ready to swing at him with a gargantuan bell.

What I remember was her ample bouncy cleavage
barely held together by a tress of black lacing. The film
was in black & white. The heroine was Lollobrigida,
voluptuously appetizing, despite the lack of colors.

Daydreaming along I paid no attention to my parents
when suddenly the metro heaved forward jarring me
into real time. Dismayed I watched my folks waving
frantically from the quay all of us realizing I was alone

traveling first time in an unknown megametropolis.
Disembarking at the next stop I was told there was
No return path. I mean it was a freeway with only an
Off ramp with no return until the following exit.

Seeing an old man appear from behind a poster-plastered
Public pissoir I panic. Seeing my vacant expression
He kindly instructs me how to return where I came from.
I tell you it wasn't easy especially when he asked

For my name and he comes back with,
Je suis Jésus. Of course to me it's a miracle. The next
Time I meet Jesus is in Spain during a bullfight where
Dominguín was performing sword tricks on live bulls

Whereas upon the final kill we all go across to
the Plaza de Toros Restaurant serving the fresh
arena kills and as our party of twelve sat down, Jesus,
as his nametag attested, came to serve us.

And I had the fleeting thought that I was going to eat
the body of Christ. And just yesterday, a treasured
possession I acquired on the way home from Tijuana
was a whittled facsimile of Jesus sitting on his donkey
and would you believe the vendor's name had that
very holy forename. By an unfortunate synchronistic
bicycle accident riding under the influence of Vodka
I bumped into the stand displaying the fisher of men

on his mule and ass first they both came tumbling
under my tire, me screeching to a sliding halt over
Jesus' butt. This was a most fortuitous accident.
I plan selling bits of my thread that carry, not unlike

the famous shroud, his holy rubberized imprint.
But first I need a good Jewish lawyer to handle the
trademarks and copyrights and proof of provenance
of this unholy affair.