1942 is not my next door neighbor
i am not accustomed to the backbeat
of my existence
being supplied by the hammer smash
of hydrogen and mortar fused together

i cannot quantify and then categorize
the trajectory of storm trooper boots
cascading into my apartment like liquid violence

i am lucky

i am not well acquainted with the feral taste
of my own blood leaking from ruptured socket
and fractured lip
courtesy of a police baton
designed to protect and serve the release
of red blood cells and bone chips

i can't tell you what the sound of rib cages
crackling like brittle bone kindling sounds like

and my child instinctually smiles when he calls me daddy

i am blessed ten thousand times
by a god i only know through
bitching when things don't go my way
like when bring hammer to flesh of thumb
or loose a finger to the barbaric anger of car doors

god is a casual acquaintance
that i occasionally call to see if he'll lend me
money

lesson 1

my parents taught me the proper way to pray
hands clasped tectonic tight
back straight
eyes closed
(careful son - you never know when god is watching)
and only pray for good things
and no
praying for eric boyles
(the titanic bully
who personally acquainted you
with every toilet bowl
in sunrise elementary)
to get a particularly nasty case
of genital leprosy
is not praying for a good thing

eye for an eye
is an old testament concept and
and we're lutherans which means we're new testament people
except when the old testament works

to my feverish eight year old brain
god became santa claus
with a mean streak

i mean
both offer you glorious wonders
but
santa will only replace gi joe aircraft carriers
with lumps of coal
god once killed the first born of an entire nation
because someone
pissed
him
off

lesson 2

milk and cookie do not work for god
i know
i've tried

i am not afraid of the khmer rouge
i do not know how a rope feels tight around the neck
and i have never had to look across a crowded bar in fear
at a person with the capability
to tie my limp body
to the back
of an '85
ford pickup

and i can't tell you if gun powder really tastes
as bitter as i imagine it does

i am blessed ten thousand times
by a god
who's name i only call
when i'm about to ejaculate
or when i'm waiting for the lotto numbers
to ecstatically call my name

lesson 3

you were kind enough to die when i wasn't in the room

so i could imagine
you went peacefully
like a three year old
whisked gently into the silk arms of sleep
no
swallowing of the tongue
no
legs snapping like sinew steel traps
no
angry buzz of machinery and alarms
no
concerned looks on the faces
of emergency room nurses
who don't sleep anymore
because they're afraid of what awaits them
in their dreams
just the doctor
lying
to us huddled masses in the waiting room
saying you went peacefully

god was kind enough to let you die
when i wasn't in the room
so you wouldn't have to listen
to me forget how to pray
searching the ceiling tiles
for the language of an old god
i probably should have spoken to more often
turning you
into the pony
i never got when i was five
turning your memory
into a lottery ticket

amen

pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty

................please

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