Chapter 37

“Turn around, bitches,” Mitchell scolds, whispering.

As instructed, the twins turn back around.

Pastor Pritch informs the group, “I will be reading one of Mr. Friday’s poems. The piece is titled Overflow of Rightness.”

As Pastor Pritch begins to read the poem, I want to snicker, but control my composure. Although the poem is about life and death, a painting of God’s love and grace, the attendees and Pastor Pritch are very much unaware of how my lost lover wrote Overflow of Rightness, and why.

Mind you, I have not shared this most intimate detail with Mitchell. To my fondest recollection, Mr. Friday wrote most of the award-winning poem while doing shots of peach-flavored vodka, wearing nothing but a pair of white boxer-briefs. The poem, he insisted, was about God having a cock and knowing how to use it on one of his adorable angels. And Heaven in the poem was nothing more than one of Mr. Friday’s favorite boy-bars called Splendormen.