Torn at the moment, an eight-year affair, two years divorced but I’m so goddamned close it’s all I can do to keep from crying just wanting to be there. On the streets of St. Paul, with my brothers in blood, siblings in thought, and neighbors being the best kind of Americans known how. I’m tempted to spill it in the raw, no edits revising but there’s so much to shout about, to digest and make digestible the knots in my throat and the coarse I cough up.
I wonder, what’s the worth? the worthiest of emotion. The here and now, or the eventual there and then: rough made smooth and extra sharp. I am stuck on an island with snot on my sleeve. More about me, then, later. For now, let those who make history tell it. I’ll have my side soon enough.
Luck and love to Sam, Ben, Amy, Chris, and AJ, and everyone else. I am so proud.