ice cream sandwich communion 

in the digital pasture
we found a church of pen caps.
everything was web 2.0 
but i wanted to know 
where the ice cream was. where
we were going to be fed.
i stay up at night thinking
of how & why there will cease
to be ice cream. in the days
of late-early apocolypse, i hoarded
all the ice cream i could find
until the freezers were empty.
stand in front lawns
with a spoon in my mouth 
waiting for god to come. we maybe ask
too much of each other. i want
someone to give me their body
between two soft chocolate cookies.
no spoon neccessary. just teeth.
waiting for the day's loading bar
to complete & yet here i am.
not fully rendered but fully
waiting to be glorious. i never met
a confessional that wasn't bugged
& live streaming. here is everything
i want to be destroyed for. here is
everything i for which i want 
to be loved. we break bread 
by which i mean we break our phones
ceremoniously. they were mad of chocolate.
we do not have a single notification. 
not in heaven. earth is losing 
all its green so we enter VR. 
touched the grass
like the back of a great animal.
eat the new synthetic ice cream 
which tastes like hollow eggs.
it is not holy like the kind
we knew. the kind animals became
omen for. licking cream 
from my fingers. i want to remember
what it was like to unwrap
salvation. bless my own mouth.
i no longer believe in sin. 

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