mother teresa's day off.
one day mother teresa had it.
fuck the poor, she said, and the sick;
this was very much out of character.
she made coffee, weighed options, settled on selfcare.
post-pedicure (jesus, those feet, caked with the slums of calcutta)
she found a nice pair of jeans, which would have to be hemmed.
the headscarf was a statement piece, but it wasn’t doing her any favors.
while waiting (impatiently, for once) at a hair salon, she skimmed people, us weekly, recognized only bloat and vanity.
back in the car, her phone had blown up. the lepers needed help and the nuns were confused.
she returned to wild outpourings of love, but god just played it cool, waiting for the headscarf; knowing, of course, she’d be back.