Passover or Easter or Happy Any Ole Thing, Sam I Am

she
asks me good naturedly
which to wish me - a happy this or that
and a poem’s immaculate conception is instant arisen arising
hot ****

rueful smile and unruly reply
a solid out loud Ha!

neither either or he writes and so believes

for I am a god loving man,
whom we’ve -Him/It/Me have agreed
that I may call
Sam I Am
and the answer to your question is
why not

for most quests and questions can be well-answered
why not!

my genes my historical beings my ancestors and my issue
all declaiming that I am a jew who left egypt, no defaming, a slave to no man who cannot love another like his own self

but some in all that I write, this deity boss slips in quietly unseen in one of his jokes-on-us-disguises like singing ave maria

and thus whose to say
his rightful name, is not
Sam I Am

my choice and the big D
     (a self-employed informal his choice, nom-de-guerre)
has agreed via his acknowledgement in his normative style of
low volume taciturn tacit acceptance

so wish me a u happy
anything you want-to-call-it-day

don’t matter. but know this u were there
when, all on that happy day where, @ the manger,
when this Sam-Approved-Appeared
poem was born and Sam blessed it with a
hot ****!

she laughs, tosses back in my face, some schematic I
prior penned that I can’t recall the when or where or my
nom-de-guerre employed but fits this ex-slave perfectly

“there are no lines or lies in my writings
there are no definitions and
perception is only your truth”