trespassing
an unwelcome way station
The side door’s locked
so I sit on the curb outside your house,
My snotty tears
mix with the early spring rain
as the cops ask
“what happened?”
I lie.
-
No mention of
the words you chucked,
the other girls you fucked.
You were just a good guy
having a bad day,
and I could resolve it all
with my hands
down your sweatpants.
-
You weren’t really a bad guy,
like a superhero who breaks a window
while learning his own strength.
The bruises were a necessary pain,
it’s just the way you trained me,
no need to spill the beans.
-
Your neighborhood cops ask again
how I found myself
standing outside your house.
Should I tell them?
When I fell into your bed,
you were anything but resistant;
begging me to show
just a little more skin.
-
But now you’re girlfriend is home,
and a story must be written
to explain the little girl
standing in your kitchen.
My promiscuity becomes the weapon,
I’m the product,
and you’re the buyer.
My word against yours;
doesn’t mean much
when you know I won’t speak up
-
Somehow the cops and your girlfriend
forget all about
your sins.
My tears,
my fears,
our age difference-
all left out of the report.
A cop squawks over the radio
“A girl caught trespassing,
no further action.”
