A real life account of: The Struggle Between Major and Minor Deities
Official reason: house inspection
Unofficial reason being: who the fuck wants to work.
When the inspector finished up around noon, we packed ourselves into the car and drove off towards our final errand.
I walked in the building and reserved a computer.
Robert(whispering a,”be right back”) walked out to the courtyard to take a phone call from our banker about the status of our loan.
He was gone for long enough that I grew ancy.
My favorite place in the whole wide world
I’m sure I’ve been to as many as 60.
They are all different, some considerably better than others,
But when you step inside they all feel the same.
The smell of old paper, and unwashed bodies
And not the home I shared with my parents, siblings, a dog named Patsy Cline and God
I was in kindergarten when I learned how to read.
In first grade I got my very own library card.
And it was third grade that I figured out I could ride my bike there all on my own.
But the next milestone, it’s hard to pin down the year, or my age.
What I remember was the feeling
How I would then, roll it around in my head
A thought became a feeling,
 and sending a jolt of giddiness though my body
I HAD A SECRET WEAPON ARSENAL
And I could(should I work up the courage to do so)Â
Check out any book I wanted
My house: a police state,Â
my father: a corrupt monarch,
“Because I said so’s over me
Quoting(SCREAMING) an inch from my face
“Children submit to your parents for this is right”
BELTING out his thundering denunciation of,
(His finger pointed at me and into my chest bone)
A woman in the bible who was eaten by dogs for being wicked.
For not worshiping the one true God.
For instead worshiping other gods
All those years of you jabbing your finger into me,
Like you can press your will into me,
From your finger into my heart
Learning fine motor skills,
While he haughtily BOOMS and hurls out a sentence of,
“IN COMMUNION WITH THE SPIRIT OF JEZEBEL!”
This one, in particular, would always stir a twitch
On the corner of my mouth.
I would then refocus and purse my lips.
Not to keep myself from arguing,
Or fighting back a choked sob,
It was to choke back a smile
I HAD A SECRET WEAPON ARSENAL
And they were lined up, spines straight, like soldiers on the shelves,
just waiting for me to enlist them into action
Byron, Keats, Whitman, Alcott, Bronte, R.L.Stine, Plath, Poe
They were growing in number every day
I worshiped them, shamelessly, in public, at the library.
I won summer reading competitions.
I roamed(in bare feet) through the labyrinth of shelves searching for books that were forgotten.
I would open them, I would inspect them delicately, the card placed inside the cover.
When was the last time you were checked out?
I scoured them for dog ears and doodles.
Highlights and underlines.
Seeing what someone else loved.
Seeing if someone else could ever love me.
Robert comes back, with our last responsibility checked off the list,
And we whisk ourselves off to get day drunk.
Taking advantage of our last few days of freedom.
Before the grandparents bring him(Henri)
And he’s ours for(n)ever
I walk languidly to the door
          brain,Â
and sending a jolt of giddiness thought my body
Someday I will tell him about a place where every single possibility exists
Well then we will write it
We Will Become Our Own Gods!
Truth, poetry, mystery, adventures, trials, friendship, kinship, laughter, crying and straight boredom
And we will tell them our story
And they will tell us their story
Together we will tell the world our story
 when death comes we won’t be afraid
