Monday, June 17, 2013

james in his white robe;
he'd make wild accusations during group therapy, like that he'd
won the portland marathon twice or created NASA technology to read our
james in the white robe hearing everyone's
brains tick.
i sat in rubber soled socks and wondered if he knew about the first time i'd 
swore-on-my-mothers-grave and lied or the 
dirty things i'd write to girls
during theology class.
james in his white robe watching our eyes dart to double glass windows,
our hands shaking on sharpened pencils, calculating how many days we could get away with
not eating.
maybe he'd been to the moon
in his white robe, listened to our minds, 
and found them 

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