Return to Sender

When I drew portraits, I copied a picture of Abe Lincoln.

It was one of my best reproductions.  Back in third grades.

Before I got award and prize money in the community for a drawing.

Abe Lincoln.

 

When I was a kid, 5 years old, I prayed to be strong.

At 11, I prayed to be the fastest man on Earth.

And so he made me.

He made stronger than any man.

He made faster than any human.

I prayed also for friends.  I was a little older, then.

Junior high school.

I never got it.  That prayer was never answered.

But two out of three ain’t so fuckin’ bad.

Two outta three ain’t so fuckin’ bad.

 

And I broke the handle of a gold-colored shovel,

As I was digging bones to bury in the pasture.

A half-covered cadaver I tried to dig up,

But it was too much to transplant the grave,

Over to my mass grave.

And the shovel handle broke.

It was my mothers’, in memory of her father,

With the date of his death written on the blade.

And she loves the dead more than the living.

And she loves material more than kind words.

She’ll abuse with her words and force and coerce

And bring any extent of army-type strength to tear me down.

But material, she is free with her substance.

 

And now I have a house to live, thankfully.

As I prayed, and now I receive.

My own house.  My own home.

No mortgage no debt.

Only the debt to my lawyer,

The only debt that I have.

The lawyer to defend my case of false charges.

 

But if I were to pray now, I would pray to Abraham Lincoln

Like a Saint

A Catholic prayer to a non-Catholic saint.

I would pray to Abraham and Mary.

Yes, I would pray to Abraham and Mary.

The Civil War has engulfed, and I need the help of this Saint.

My Catholic prayer to this holy saint and his wife.

As two flesh together making one.

I would pray to Abraham and Mary.

 

As for me, return to sender.

Any prayers that come to me:

Return to sender.

So the Father did to me to make me stronger,

And fast,

I want this for you.  I want you faster and stronger.

Two of three ain’t so fuckin’ bad.

Two out of three ain’t so fuckin’ bad.

 

I don’t ask of God anything, anymore.

I only thank.  I realize the cost to send to me anything.

And so I just thank him.

What with jail times and hospitals, doctors, and abuses,

I realize all the trouble he has to send me to answer my prayers.

So I find answers myself.

But if you don’t have answers and have tried everything,

I suggest you try praying to Saints Abraham and Mary as one flesh.

 

I realize most prayers now will only return to sender.

But this might possibly work,

Because we’re in a Civil War.

And who to bandage better than a Captain-in-Chief Master of War.

Guess we don’t need Israel’s judges, anymore.

Oh, well.  It was good while it lasted.

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