Talking to Orion: A Non-Believer’s Prayer

Where did all the blue skies go?

Because all I see above me are

Accusatory clouds wagging fingers in my direction.

*

When did the middle ground become a high-wire?

And why does the wire seem so out of reach?

When did “okay” become the American dream?

*

Orion, why do I treat you like a psychiatrist on my speed dial?

Ignoring you until I’m not, then impatiently awaiting your appearance?

Why, when I am unable to comprehend the devotion others show to religion,

Is the only word I have left – faith?

*

Why does it seem like the last time I knew

Where I fit in to the grand scheme of things

Was fifty-nine minutes before I finally knew

That this is me and that’s okay.

I spend too much time trying to put myself in a box

But that’s just because I never found one that fit.

*

Why, when I spend so much time amongst fictional characters,

Am I unable to spot someone fake?

I mean, my expectations for people in general are pretty low

And yet they still manage to disappoint.

*

I string words together like I’m rearticulating a skeleton.

But all anybody must hear is syllabic ramblings

Because no one ever speaks back.

*

I don’t know why that lady’s walking her dog at 2 am

But I think I scared her with my praying.

I guess neither of us expected the other to be there.

But this is my drive way.

*

*

Well, goodbye for now.

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