the bitterest fruit hidden under the biggest blanket i could find
here we were, me with her, the reflection forbidden
to pain to gut to uplift to sincere
now gut now kiss now weak goes knees in virtual directions
now gut.kiss.weak.knees
where is this thing going around and around
feels like a hand up my shirt or between her knees i’m frisked it's official
so the letter gets sent, the girls get called, the horses fly out the gates
the mixtape is a copy of a day in the life
the mixtape was a copy
the day was a copy
the life was a copy
the kiss was a cop
holding someone under arrest
or was it a bad joke with a false gun
were you committing crimes
the interrogation had no smoke
who polices these
who polices these
who polices these
parts? you know what i’m speaking of
who polices these
who drives this vehicle with no plates into foggy nights
who plays the fool the fall guy the lookout the hit man
or was it never a hit
didn’t make it to the radio
didn’t dial up a friend
maybe it was just a distraction
the real suspect was spit
shining a mirror
under a dark blanket
face puckered sour,
grieving
march 2011
poignant.
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