forget what you cannot remember

Have you read the number one best seller? On a Tuesday, woman wearing seven learned languages approaches poet wearing red-haired scars. God is detangled from Sodom and Gomorrah and boy dies but arrives back on earth to write book about heaven in mother’s handwriting. I see your stains, the arrest of your sins. They will imprison you for lying, spitting, cussing and pre-marital fornication. Homosexuals are just people who have been seduced by early fingers. Who seduced you, she asked. Your scars are what keep you from the memory. Green, plastic table supports the lean in of accusations and if God is just a word so is homo and hell and love and forgiveness. There is too much prayer and not enough living. They are bringing people back, she announces. I can tell where they came from because they are scared.

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