The wooden floors used to bear
the scuff marks of Unitarian shoes.
Now it's some sort of hippy church,
covered with meditation rugs, just enough
'eastern influence' to placate well-fed,
well-intentioned, sedentary barefoot
parishioners. They want to commission
a mural. Something to cool the brow
in the blink-hot June brightness; a river
lined with gardens; Buddha and Christ
feeding grapes to endangered species;
Woody Guthrie with a hoe in hand.
They approve my sketches, except
for the one incorporating a tree
adorned with La Virgen de Guadalupe
air fresheners purchased next door
at the Mexican grocery. They explain:
we don't want our spiritual practices
associated with that toxic new car smell.