little mary calls me boo-boo ‘cause she can’t say william.

i am 'boo-boo'.

christened by my younger sister when she was two.

you see saints speak through sisters in all that gibberish.

 

my sister says no, boo-boo, “heaven” is a hole-in-the-wall mexican diner

with burritos that make believers

tostadas that the new testament testifies to

and queso you’d swear was the blood of christ.

angels eat at rancho grande in rosenberg, texas

that, like all of rosenberg filed for chapter seven seven seven

something like seven years ago.

after hours god cooks over a hot stove called hell

mops the floor with lightning bolts

wipes the sweat from his head with a cloud

wrings it out on the ground

he sets a yellow sign outside on the flooding streets

that reads “cuidado, piso mojado.”

 

before doing janitor work for the earth he used to fix wristwatches but

nowadays times are tough

he can’t break off enough to do redeeming even part-time

so salvation takes another place in rancho grande,

on the backburner.

he sells grace online ‘cause we wouldn’t take it for free and

passes out truth like flyers

that we fold in 4’s and stick in our back pockets and forget its there.

he prints pages of scripture with sudoko on the other side

‘cause otherwise we might glance but won’t read

and every sheet says that

human beings are flyers

(that would rather walk than try on secondhand wings.)

human beings believe

(only if it doesn’t mean reading seeing and/or thinking about things.)

human beings have hours upon hours to turn back the clock

(and instead live by its hands and kill time on our time off

writing tic-tac-toe epitaphs,

little games played out on its grave.)

 

in a stairwell haven outside all that rain inside making small talk

i made a covenant with god who told me that

the sky is not falling, i promise.

 

in a stairwell haven inside outside of the flood and all that rain and making small talk

i met the lord. i introduced myself to my own maker, said

my name is billy.

and bill and william and sometimes i think i’m all three all mashed up into one

and god said “i know. me too,

i still can’t think like a trinity

its hard enough to be myself by myself to know my own self but i know you already.”

god graced me one of them flyers of his.

this one had a poem on the other side.

he told me to read it aloud and out loud

speak slow

sing like a proud father singing his child to sleep

another word another note.

here it goes.

 

i am boo-boo.

christened by my younger sister when she was two.

you see, saints speak through sisters in all that gibberish.

 

i am boo-boo a skyscraper scraping the skies for another self

‘cause i dont love this self.

ive tried and tried and

still sink into my sheets and down

i fall under the bedframe holdin my breath staying dead still

in a game of hide and seek with william and billy and bill

and pray like hell they don’t find me.

i don’t get along with them.

 

i am boo-boo boo-hooing hiding yet again under this bed.

yes, i found a good spot this time and im not coming out never ever

not in a million years

down here i made imaginary friends with my fears and family history.

both reek of booze.

 

i am boo-boo

and my soul is not for sale.

i divvied it up and each piece is for free

for whoever needs it more than me.

 

i am boo-boo.

only name I say

when i call what’s left of my soul

back home when i know

i am whole again.

one three all and none.

 

here comes the rain.

bring on the flood.