The Virgin came from outer space.
	Upon her earthly arrival, the Virgin realized the unexpected
ugliness of this place, a drying shit stain on the vast expanse
of galaxies that unspool like bathroom tissue.
	The Virgin stood, still and statuesque, space frost patterning
her pale face and hands.  When scabby human hands with dirty 
fingernails tried to tear her blue light gown from her glowing sacred
flesh she fell down and wailed in shock.
	The Virgin became angry.

	Meanwhile, during a quiet night beside a long dirt road an
ancient engine starts to turn over, a hoarse roar cracks the silence.
A coarse wracking cough like a sick old crow in new morning sunshine.

  Space frost still
on her white face and hands