The Bobblehead Jesus I got as a stocking stuffer this past Christmas, and which now accompanies me every time I drive somewhere, inspired this morning’s poem:

Plastic imitation

cheap meditation

jumping

spinning

dancing

to your every thought

as you weave through traffic

mini miracle maker

whirling dervish

dashboard Jesus

in your car, on your heart

can do a jig for

every broken string of hopes

a little god can make for you

at least a laugh at every turn

as toga-wearing, made-in-China

krishna-hands-extending

flop jock Jesus

bears the burdens of

comings and goings with

the frenzied calm of an

enlightened guru

who loves to twist and shake

expressionless until

your heart

feels strangely

warmed and

you’re home.