I used to deal with the body and blood of Jesus, on a Sunday, kneeling over it. I was mostly an introverted quiet kid and Jerry was stud muffin. I lifted weights in gym, but only my legs got bigger. Jerry had rock hard cleavage. His hair was perfect. He wore a gold chain when he knelt over the body and blood of Jesus. We shared the leftovers in the backroom, after.

He is a prose poem about those early glory days as a teenager in Vegas. From The Green Monk. It is called “Leftovers.”

“Leftovers” by Marcus Slease






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