That you must be chosen by someone
to become who you are, it's a bit sad. 

That a thing like me dares to choose— 
everyone 

must have gotten him wrong, 
they gossip in the bars and the churches,

the bartenders pouring whiskeys and the pastors pouring pity. 
They say in the game of poker, when a pro

and a beginner meet, it is everyone
else who loses. And whoever 

cashes out, laughs. Am I making sense to you, David? 
I've gotten this far from the fire

I was chosen to burn in. I am just beginning
to cool down.  

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