The Archbishop.

I got a car recently.

He's a boy.

His name is the Archbishop.

I didn't want to give him

a regular name,

like Floyd

or Byron.

I wanted it to be more of a title.

Something that started with the word the.

I considered many things.

The Colonel.

The Duke.

The Silver Bullet.

And then

the Archbishop

popped into my head.

It was so silly,

but I couldn't stop thinking about it.

And the more you think about something,

the more it seems natural.

So the Archbishop he is.

When I ride the bus to work,

I say that I left the Archbishop

at the the monastery.

Sometimes when he has a hard time

getting up hills,

I say,

"Come on, Archie!"

But that's rare,

and it's extremely informal

and I don't think he appreciates it.

The Archbishop has a rule:

everyone must take turns

sitting in the front seat.

His favorite cd is

The Lower Lights - A Hymn Revival.

He could listen to that

over and over

all day,

every day.

.

.

.

I went and saw Les Miserables

with a bunch of friends last weekend.

The part at the beginning

with Jean Valjean

and the bishop

is arguably the best scene.

And I thought to myself,

"I feel so good

that my car is an archbishop.

He's the kind of car

that gives away his best silver

to help somebody

become an honest man."

This isn't the Archbishop himself,

but it very well may be

his cousin, the Cardinal.