I'll tell you, I don't want to be here --
would rather be 'most anywhere else.
But then again, those words, "restless,
irritable, discontent" -- that's me these weeks,
ever since I got this darned list done.
You weren't joshing me, what you said?
That this would help? Can't see how --
sounds like trickery to me, way to learn
my dirt, my fuckups. But what the hey.
Never knew you 'till I came here,
don't have to keep it up. Can't hurt much
'cept pride. You like a lawyer, can't tell
nothin' I say? Anawhatamy? Never have
understood what that means. Whatever.
Anyway, here goes.
That weren't too bad. You didn't even seem upset,
kept acting like I ain't done nothin' you wouldn't,
you haven't. Makes me feel different somehow.
Kind of happy. More than that. Pleased, maybe.
Tickled pink. Haven't felt this easy, relaxed in years.
I ain't scared. You know, I thought you were loony,
putting that there chair between us, saying, "God's here."
But I'll be darned if it don't seem like he's sittin' there.
Like he's real, not some old man floating up there,
zapping sinners. He sure didn't seem any madder than you!
And I don't feel like running' to the bar when I leave here!
I can stroll down the street, and he'd match me, step by step!
You could have told me! Oh. Yeah. I guess you did.
No comments:
Post a Comment