Caught in the Middle

Gefangen - Caught 23,5 x 29,5 cm

ON A VISIT OF POPE BENEDICT TO BERLIN

What about those Renaissance popes,

God bless ‘em, Borgias and Medici, and Julius 2,

the “warrior” pope, tormentor of Buonarroti,

leading his armies into the field? Think of mistresses,

catamites, long stretches of picturesque corruption.

So along came the last Pope with his grim looking

worried entourage of dark suits in sunglasses

with things in their ears, and even if

the Bishop of Rome is

unable to put an infantry division in the field

anymore, is more administrator than despot,

preserver of arcane ritual and curator of exquisite artifacts,

he’s still powerful enough to stop traffic

on a dime: whole boulevards swept clean of common

commuters, even side streets, making room 

for the Main Attraction’s motorcade

and outlying security detachments. Product managers blitzed on

caffeine had to walk to work in their expensive not meant to be

walked so far in shoes while sleek papal courtiers 

sweet talked the press and ate prime rib for lunch, every-

one, even elected officials and their

fresh haircuts—the mayor’s

“do” was especially well-wrought, with more bounce per ounce

than a new tennis ball—at least mimed the bent knee.

Yes, we are attentive when the Vicar of Christ speaks,

respectful even, for a while anyway, some of us

at least half-amazed, if politely mute about it,

that someone so important could seem so,

well, insignificant. But then sacred and secular are a little fuzzy

in my poor confused head: batmobile I can still cope with,

though I must confess—forgive me, father, etc.

   and a thousand “Hail Marys” to you too, dude—that  

popemobile goes way beyond my grasp of what’s holy in the moly.

REM - Loosing my Religion