grande truth in a venti cup

Stop there and fill it up fill it up fill it up with two percent
granulated sweetness breathe
breathe easy through your mouth
three four this cannot be too bad

Calm, two three four these women seem kind,
accepting, even through the french vanilla inquisition
so do you believe he was born of a virgin?
you are not sure? born at all?
just a man?

Coffee cool enough for gulping through
do you believe he lived? was crucified? dead? buried?
I did not realize it at the time
but they were running through the Apostle's creed line by line
check
check
check

The night I met him
there was no shame.
I did not turn when he touched my face
unfolded my privacy under harsh incandescence
god look at you so beautiful so beautiful!
white pillows propped he tucked one here
one there set me up
not unlike Mom did with Pop-pop those last days
as he shrunk into the corner leather
like the photographer who propped our babies
giving the false impression they could hold up their own heads
sit unassisted.

The women did not ask me about Pontius Pilot
or bother to roll away the stone
but made sure to ask
So, do you believe in hell?

Does it show? Did I remember
to adjust all pillows
for proper support?

Yes girls, I know I am awful,
no, no I do not love him.
He bores me with long lists of cities
we will never visit together
thank god I do not long for him when we are apart
but he tells me lower my chest
and I lower my chest,
move so easy to any request
You are the only man
the only man
this is the little truth
the little truth in a big big cup.