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**On a mobile device, this poem is best viewed using landscape orientation. As a child raised right on the buckle of the bible belt, each June I could be found buried in the basement of a church singing Jesus loves me, and stringing salvation bracelets. One strand of leather, 6Continue Reading

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As the young woman walks away, Tim points to my beer, “You’re almost done with that. I’ll get you another. You’ll want it for what I am about to tell you.” “Great. Thanks!” I holler as I throw back my first gooey cheese stick. I’m enjoying the conversation and wonderingContinue Reading