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Editor’s note: This is a true story. It happened in 1995. The protagonist lived in St. Albans. The church where he worshipped was in South Jamaica.
M. A. Istvan Jr. was raised in Beacon, New York, in the 80s and 90s where, in addition to the soft bigotry of lowered expectations, a decades-deep tide of negative stereotypes about his family normalized children with his last name being placed into special education by default (only to graduate into special targets for the law, barely after they reached double digits). Read more about his story at: https://www.pw.org/directory/writers/m_a_istvan_jr_phd
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Great poem about how one guy thinks he is a worshipper fraud by pretending to pass out by the Holy Ghost.
A scene painted well and felt deeply by this post-Black-Christian black sheep