I knew things were special
If only because of the names
Father Angel, pronounced angle
Was the first priest I had
He was succeeded by Father Masse
Who only abused the bottle, not us boys
Our undertaker was Mr. Whitebone
Whose funeral parlor sign turned the heads of unfamiliar visitors driving by
What strange novel am I living in?
I questioned my young self
Who passed out the scripts and why didn’t I get one?
This is so weird
Somebody must have made this up
But at least they have a sense of humor
I’d conclude with a chuckle
David Trudel © 2012