3/18/2026 (c)
His premises may be wrong—
his conclusions about me, preposterous—
still, he is a thinker.
He puts in the effort.
For that, I forgive him—almost—
his sermons
on god’s role for women.
He says I was a sinner the day I was born,
and reminds me I haven’t stopped yet.
I try not to pity him, I remember
I was like him once,
a child of a different god,
riding a bus
toward Hollywood Boulevard,
to save the sinners.
I was already uneasy
with the truth.
Until I realized
I didn’t have it.
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