Thousand: Three Hundred Sixty

am a little different. Bigger nose. Smaller eyes. Tinier pores. But I feel a continuity. When you look at the crowd, the herd, the swarm, it’s hard to see individuals. I usually don’t introduce myself as “Jesus” these days. I trot out the name when I figure it doesn’t mean much. If you go into a cathedral and start shaking hands, calling yourself “Jesus,” people can get pissy. Sometimes I pronounce it the Spanish way, “Hey-Zeus.” For some reason that doesn’t rankle anybody. Why shouldn’t there be many Jesuses in the world? I lost a hand once. It got chopped