We Say He is a good boy, we say. His shirts are ironed And his collars crisp as his breath. His words, we say, are weighed. Ideal, we say. Church goer, we say. Doctor, we say. No, he’s an engineer, we say. Still very good, we say. (I’m not comfortable, he says.) (This isn’t my calling, he says.) Good boys don’t complain, we say. Have no say, we say. He is a good boy, we say.
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