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Lost Mass


Something interested me at mass today much that I wonder, what is it about a dancing woman that traps souls bodies and pockets alike?
Is it the way her bones and fats or lack thereof are all over the place or is it when the two independently sway, parting momentarily, sucking souls bodies and pockets into the moment then slapping back shut. Within them, trapping souls bodies and pockets alike. 
One particular lady had me regretting the journey to mass, at the foot of the good altar I saw her. In her blue jeans and flat shoes, Her thighs abandoned each other at her waist at improper angles while her knees did almost nothing but aid her practiced move towards the ground. How she managed to align herself afterwards immensely disturbed me to the point I chose to ask her, that I'm writing this obviously proclaims I did not. 
Which leads to a larger, far reaching shiny and pronounced issue, her forehead.
In my time I have come to accept quirks of genetics and still as I love surprises, this one was a forehead I was not going to open my arms in front of and for a very clear reason, I feared I might touch it and be healed. 
As I sat still revising my priorities and potting the seed of faith in my religion it happened, now hear. I have seen my share of flicks depicting a normal day at a brothel and two or three more to ground me but in no fantasy did I project to meet pantyhose in church.
Black and sincerely hugging her legs upwards and disappearing under a lighter shade of black, she was in line waiting to receive the holy communion. I heard the ever elusive voice speak for once in my heart or was it my head? It suggested I do not cast the first stone for it knew I had known her prior mass.

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