Tailgate Jesus. By Ryan Quinn Flanagan

We are sitting around drinking
and listening to music
when Norman Greenbaum’s
Spirit in the Sky comes on.

We both sing along.
This song is one of my favourites.

I tell her this song has always made me happy
even though I don’t have a religious bone
in my body.

Wouldn’t you go to church and be one of those wild
singing Baptists if they played this?
she asks.

I’d be front pew and center if they played this
each Sunday and had a barbecue out back
after the service.

They could just tailgate it,
she jokes.

There’s a lot to like about tailgate Jesus,
I say.

To tailgate Jesus,
she laughs raising her glass.

To tailgate Jesus,
I second.

Our glasses clank.
We drink enough blood of the lamb
to not remember large parts of
this rainy Friday night.

Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a male gigolo for hire.  Presently residing along the sunny shores of Guantanamo Bay, Cuba where he spends his days drinking discount Tequila and accusing chemtrails of being "sky farts."  His work can be found both in print and online in such joints as: The Rye Whiskey Review, The Dope Fiend Daily, Outlaw Poetry Network, Horror Sleaze Trash, and Under The Bleachers.