My dad doesn’t believe in evolution.
I used to agree.
God breathed life into dirt and made a person,
sent forth an army of men made of dust,
women made of ribs,
animated,
temporary,
idiots,
strays set out into the world to **** it all up,
somehow find a way to tear open the sky and set fire to mountains of ice.
I still believe in God,
I figure it’s good insurance.
But evolution makes more sense to me now.
After all, when the papers arrive,
when the call is made,
when the cuffs go on,
and the border you built around the truth starts to crumble to pieces,
when Jericho collapses and the photo booth strips are all that’s left,
paper edges digging into your palms, drawing blood,
dripping red just the way you like it,
when it all goes to **** and you’re covered in dust, but
still standing,
always standing,
always there with blood on your knuckles
and your chest being ripped in two, a hand on each rib tearing it open
at the sternum fracture,
why couldn’t a fish walk on land?