Last Meals of the Saints
St. Frank sops gravy, forks greens along with beans and rice, crisps chicken skin between his teeth, dribbles the grease down his chin, and there is nothing, now, between him and this meal, and nothing, anymore, between now and those same meals long ago before anything happened, before anyone did anything, and when he is finished he is full and warm and he thinks nothing is going to happen now and no one is going to do anything and this is what it feels like to be safe, unsinful, and in the favor of the Lord.
St. Dobie has no hard feelings against anybody. Twelve candy bars, one for each disciple of Jesus. And ice cream, because the Mother Mary is cold, but good, and they told St. Dobie he could have what he wanted and this is what he wants. Mother Mary and the Apostles. Candy bars and ice cream, God bless, God bless y’all.
St. Earl has heard stories.
St. Angelo is allowed to keep his seedless grapes after passing over his tray clean of breadstick, salad, coffee. He is popping them into his mouth when St. Frank is walked by, helmeted escort surrounding him like bowling pins. St. Angelo bites down, shakes his head. Damn, these grapes are good.
