I, cannot fold my sheets
I, only think of places
I, count the tiny feets
I, rush by races
I, am too fast for them
I, am rambling over syllables like I knew I was accountable for every little speck ofdust on my mother's '89 Caddy with curbfeelers and funky purple and white dice
I, can't do much by myself
I, believe in a savior
I, believe in righteous behavior
I, think we should do ourselves a favor
I, find myself building philosophies from dust
I, know that we were made from rocksbroken by lust
I, struggle with God
I, armwrestle Him like I could win the crown of the world
I, know I can't
I, am a lowly sinner
I, hate the word queer
I, am conflicted
I, know a queer
I, know the bible
I, know the love I have for a queer and the bible
I, want to let every secret pour out like a weeping school child admitting every past trespass on even the bold ant who stumbled across the four square line in the third grade!
I, am a quiet man's son
I, am saying what I think he might have had he said anything with his dying breath
And I, am slow to start … But I've been known to finish strong
I, thank you if you've made it this far
I, love you, Dad