I had a father once. Wasn’t all that bad, as fathers go. I’ve had worse. Over there, in that other corner. Where it wants me most.
So back to my father. He was all into family, heritage, and shit. And in painting his family coat of arms over everything he owned.
Which I’ve been. Owned. Not only by him, but he got it running. Ran far enough with it to pass it on, make a profit on the deal.
My ex, he found it all so amusing, my monogram and all the rest. Did he ever take one single thing of me seriously? Ever once?
Always had my answer ready for me without listening in for the question. And always the same one, too, like some damn missionary.
The one friend I had before I went and got myself abandoned, though. She thought it fit what little poetry I had. Obscurity. Light.
It doesn’t work for me outside. She would nod. It only blends in white on white out there. She kissed softly. It doesn’t work. Out.
Unless I am alone. Where I belong. Where it’s dark. Where nobody comes. No windows to tell me the time of day. No doors in or out.
Jesus? I think I know which one. There are so many of them. Mine sat beside me in high school algebra. I copied off his test often.
We all thought he was bright too. Brightest bulb in the class. Didn’t need our dark-witted heads to tell that. He came prepared.
Turns out it was mostly tricks. He knew the shortcuts. That’s all that made him look like a god to all us lower forms of intelligence.
But hell, any light when it’s dark, right? Except I heard he’s taken. Got himself married and kids and pets. All the good ones. Taken.
Next thing you know they’ll be sending him up to stand in for us. To save us all from evil. To Washington, I mean. That’s how it’s done.
These bright types, we think if we get them to represent us, we won’t look as bad as we know we do. We all go along with the con.
So back to my father. He did that. Represented us, I mean. Saved us. Promised us the world and everything coming after that too.
Except I don’t think Jesus voted for him. He was of the other political persuasion. The ones who think they have the inside track.
My ex, he thought I still had a crush on Jesus. It’s true, there was a time I would have married him first. Kids. Pets. And house.
It wouldn’t have worked out for me. The Jesus trip, I mean. That’s how every god ever created has had it turn out. So as not to work.
Yes, I know. My father told me. My ex beat it into me. My one real friend warned me before she left. Even Jesus had a thing to say.
I only want to know one thing. If that light’s so damned crucial without the dark it’s in, then what’s the dark doing here anyway?