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.

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Blotting.
Word by word.
Wondering what
to make
of what
I make
these days.

Seems at least
my second-
syllable phase
is more organized,
and
at least
better received than my first.
(Granted, the first was
basically received solely by me.
Shit.
Let’s hope this doesn’t reflect on society.
Who
has
time
for more
than a tweet?)

No,
instead let’s just believe
I’ve figured out something
since I was seventeen.

Plus, it keeps the
rust off; it’s a
positive outlet
for O.C.D.

-j.maxwell