For Summer

My mother likes to tease me by saying “you’re such a good Catholic in the summer”

Because while my people get to be proud in the streets I get kids to teach and hymns to sing

I preach 1st Corinthians all while pushing down my instinct to love

And when my smile falters at staff brunch after mass on Sunday, no one questions it for a second

Because when the pretty waitress with the pride pin bats her eyes at me, I have learned I need to deny,

Because innocent flirting is a sin if you’re not straight.

She asks me what I’d like to drink and I try and keep my words straight

I ask her plainly for a peach sweet tea, the restaurant’s seasonal flavor for the summer.

She writes it down and says “that is my favorite, I can’t deny”

And at the thought of picking something she deems worthy enough to name her favorite, my soul begins to sing,

Even though I shouldn’t, I allow my internal instrument to sound for just a second

Before she leaves to go bring me the beverage she claims to love.

As my boss starts small talk with the table, I wonder what it would be like to let myself love.

I grapple with the idea of allowing my steps on this tightrope to not be straight.

What would happen if I let myself fall and not feel guilty for a second?

I long to know the answer, but is the warmth this idea fills me with the heat of hell or the solace of Summer?

But if, when all is said and done, this song is sponsored by Satan, the notion that the devil can Sing

Will be impossible to Deny

I don’t want to deny

When the waitress comes to take my order, I ask for a sandwich 13 year old me used to love

And when she smiles, my mind begins to Sing.

The song that flows is “She” by dodie, the anthem of every young teenager who can’t make themselves be straight

And no, I might not be allowed to look at her like that, but I know she wouldn’t taste like fall, she’d taste like Summer.

And if I had to rank my feelings of smitten and shame, shame would come in second.

I try to get my feelings on track for a second.

I try and remember the reasons I’m told to deny.

I am Catholic all the time not just in the summer,

And if I were to devote myself to a woman they tell me it wouldn’t be pure and true love

But when she looks at me like that it's impossible to think straight.

My heart is looping and swirling, its melody twirling, but it's useless, for I cannot sing.

But for her, I would love to try to sing

They say it would be an abomination, but if they looked at us for even a second,

It would set the record Straight

How could the Lord look at us and deny

That we are keeping his greatest commandment; to love.

When she brings out the food and the checks, I see her name tag reads “Summer”.