Count your blessings

Worst part about church weddings is the church part.

While listening to a celibate give advice about the holy institution of matrimony,

I find an old familiar feeling as I count the light and note their focus.

I sat for years counting the triangles on the ceiling of St. Jean Vianney

Twice a week until 15, Sunday and Wednesday

Once a week until 18, Sunday

There were over 400.

I still remember the pattern.

I remember the feeling

of counting

my personal rosary.


Maybe I find these people
Exhausting because I know them too well

or maybe it is because
Family is a set of expectations

Arbitrarily set rolls
that have developed through several decades

God forbid we readjust
God forbid we analyze anything

It’s a persistant battle
to claim an imaginary birthright

Hard-ass straight shooter versus
“Kind,” whimsical, idealistic dreamer

Despite the kindess displayed
Being surface level and self-serving

Hard-ass has written for years,
mentioned it, but no one cared to listen.

I wonder why he doesnt dream.
He was never given that luxury

his agreeability
commodified and expected out right

Go against the written script
and you’re the stubborn, obstinate asshole

But the dreamer gets his way
by complaining and leveraging his whine.

I was told to “get a grip”
And dealt with it. I guess I turned out fine.