Here's the church, here's the steeple, open the doors, and see all the people, all the fellow alcoholics that I met that one time, back in, oh, let's say late autumn 2017, riding my bike down after work, all sweaty, walking into the basement, everyone very friendly, exchanging numbers, wanting me to feel like I belonged, even though I didn't, or at least didn't allow myself to, in some errant self-defense maneuver, not wanting to admit the truth of the matter at hand, that there was a problem, within me, within the church, under the steeple, through the doors, among the people.
No comments:
Post a Comment