To which sins shall I confess? Panic when as an infant, you’d hold your breath and faint? Complicity moving away from Grandpa? Weakness, letting you visit your father who was still drinking? I apologize for the dogs you did or didn’t like for shopping trips where you spent money like a Sheik for not punishing your $300 pre-Christmas phone bill for loving you when you were your least loveable. We refract the light that spawns us Blue permissiveness from black strictness Green sprouts from shiny white bread Time unearths our original sin, imperfection.