MY FABULOUSLY
OVERWEIGHT COUSIN
DAVID
ONCE WENT TO OUR LOCAL
NON-DENOMINATIONAL AT
AN UNGODLY HOUR
TO STRIP DOWN
TO HIS DRAWERS
AND DANCE
BEFORE THE UNCANNY
EMACIATED
STATUE OF JESUS CHRIST
STRUNG UP THE APSE.
AND IT WAS
GLORIOUS.
I’M TALKING
FILTHY TWO-STEPS,
DEVIOUS DOUGING,
FAT RECOIL TWERKS
WITH BOTH FEET
ON THE ALTAR,
A HOKEY POKEY
THAT WOULD MAKE SATAN
TURN HIMSELF AROUND,
EVEN A BIBLICAL
B-BOY HAND GLIDE
SPINNING HIS 300-POUND
FRAME LIKE
A RUSSIAN BALLERINA.
DAVID DANCED BEFORE THE LORD
NOT BECAUSE
HE BELIEVED IN BABY BOY
BIG J.
HE DANCED BECAUSE
HE BELIEVED IN HIMSELF.
BUSTING IT DOWN IN
FRONT OF
GOD’S ONLY BEGOTTEN SON
WAS DAVID’S WAY OF
SHOWING THE
BIG MAN UPSTAIRS
THAT NOTHING WILL FORBID
ANOTHER BIG MAN
FROM GETTING
A LITTLE MOTION.