301

I reason, Earth is short—
And Anguish—absolute—
And many hurt,
But, what of that?

I reason, we could die—
The best Vitality
Cannot excel Decay,
But, what of that?

I reason, that in Heaven—
Somehow, it will be even—
Some new Equation, given—
But, what of that?

Counting cars on the front stoop in summer

One, two, three punch buggy no punch back

Lemonade for me and sweet tea for you

This is The South, after all

Only it’s hockey instead of football that’s on the television in my house but

We don’t talk about that since

I say you guys instead of y’all but

We don’t talk about that since

Your daddy has a confederate flag on his porch but

We don’t talk about that since

I grow up and you grow up and we don’t agree on the racial nor gender politics of time but

We don’t talk about that since

I don’t use the term culture of amnesia or white paternalism around you since

We count cars on the front stoop in summer

One, two, three punch puggy no punch back

A tall glass of political awareness for me and a shot of traditionalism for you

and silence between us but

We don’t talk about that since

This is The South, after all

We’re forgetting the most important part, I think

It’s that the hurt is worth it.

It’s worth it.

If nothing else, it is worth it

To love with the risk of pain

Than to never love at all.

Our space doesn’t exist, friend

It doesn’t exist anymore

Stopped being a thing once your Y chromosome didn’t match

My double X

And we realized boys and girls didn’t have sleep overs

So

Take your sticky fingers away from me, dear

Don’t kiss me sloppily on the cheek in thanks for penny candy, dear

Please stop trying to wear my shorts, dear

They are women’s cut, dear, and the five inch inseam... oh dear

You have a girl friend, dear

And you will have another one next month

And the month after that, another one

Our space only exists in-between,

Where platonicy reigns supreme

But that doesn’t exist anymore, because all girls and all boys end up together, right?

Only I’m right here and you’re right here, so we’re togther

It’s just that you’re my little brother from another mother

And I’m your personal driver

Our space doesn’t exist anymore

Tell me, God, tell me

For real, this time

A good question, if you’ll listen

Where do the gnats go after they get zapped in the bug light?

Tell, me God, tell me

Okay, this one is a good question for sure

Very important stuff

How many times does one need to curse to loose their spot in heaven? Asking for a friend

Tell me, God, tell me

This is a kicker

It’s been keeping me up at night

Why did you decide to make sand? I mean, it’s pretty and all, but it gets everywhere

Tell me, God, Tell me

So, now here’s my biggest question

When am I going to make up my mind? Is that ever in my future or are we just planning on an indecisive personality forever?

Just let me know when you decide, because we both know I won’t

And hey-

Big guy in the sky, this one really is for you, if you’re there

I’m just wondering, you see

Could you tell me one thing:

Where does all the happiness go?

Grief is far from straight

It’s a crooked, winding line down half of my heart, half of my lungs

Permanent scars that make it hard to breath sometimes.

I hate that you’re fighting to catch your breath now, too