I’m right beneath my shirt. Sort of a theory laden species.  
What if there’s a non-theist way to prepare, provide? & what  
if we’re both wrong, but less wrong than who?  
 
Let’s keep to federalist motives, far from fashion simplicity,
& let’s live together at night while we impel  
 
malfunctions that blurt out permissions extemporaneously,  
licenses to re-authorize no god’s sorrow over death.