Pat Robertson Transubstantiation Engine No. 1

First I was fellating an African despot

for his diamonds, next I was paying

a hooker to give me back

my teeth. You think I’m kidding

about the diamonds, I was looking

also for some gold. I almost

sound cute,

right, like a steamed wiener

squished into a top-slit Wonder bun.

I unload a mouthful

of warm root beer

down the back of your neck

and tell you it’s Jesus weeping

sweet brown tears of shame. Aim

your gutter

this way and give some back to me.