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Sport 42: 2014

Shaking hands

Shaking hands

My father taught me to enter the room like a wrestler,
get your hand on top, go for the crush.
He had high hopes for my managerial career where I am impressive,
twisting hands with my wire wrists.

My mother taught me ikebana,
creating simple lines for invisible guests.
She prayed daily for my redemption;
I called to god through smooth men.

My brother taught me the periodic table,
he was Encyclopaedia Britannica on a bike,
neatly arranging trains because people were so untidy.

I can’t teach you anything manly that isn’t already in song.