I am pretty like people.  to jesus on the cross this poor man brings umbrella.  he is still bringing.  still poor.  I am like his woman.  a child climbs onto my back.  my back is bitten and used to being behind me.  I drink from my shoes.  madness is an extra cup.  I know wanting all the rains is like not wanting one abusive boyfriend.  know mouth is mostly mouthpiece at a father’s funeral.  to all men a certain radius is hereditary.  I talk in cycles.