I am, of course, an idiot who
delights in the gray shadows
of tree branches bobbing and
crossing on a cracked white
plaster wall in the room
where he spends
his days
reserving his sorrows for
abandoned toys and worn
broken appliances and disregarding
those worn, abandoned, broken
people of which he was one
before God sent a woman to deliver me
giving me my best possible life for
far longer than I’d a right to expect
in the hot, damp hell where I grew up
I know it’s not right that
I’ve wept harder for dead feral cats
I’ve buried than I ever did for my parents
or even people whom I actually liked
I said I was an idiot so I get
a pass on this, right?
or do I lose points
for knowing this is wrong?
knowing it’s even more wrong
not to care, which
God help my retarded soul
I can’t bring myself to do.
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