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False Accusations

Unlike his dad, he was
pragmatic, cynical, tough, shrewd
“The most important thing a man has to tell
is what he doesn’t tell
The most important thing he has to say
is what he doesn’t say
Watch his hands, look into his eyes”

We think relevantly, valiantly,
validly, much of the time
Brief twinges lurk, vanish
below a conscious net
like a persistent ache
or a soothing coolness...
Like panic or relief

Small victories...
Two beetles crush together for warmth
Their hard shells pressed together
like two very encrusted humans
My father collected stamps
for a kind of smallish delight
Failure for him was terror

At this point, she hoped to be better known
She thought she owed that much to her talents
“They have taste cells on their wings
Their bodies are covered with sensors
and unlike us earthly bounders,
they fly!!!”
These aren’t the thoughts that terrorize

Here they are—
When bad things come to you, do you
decide that it’s all your own damn fault?
Does that thought make any sense
of your world?
Caught in a prison-like place
they’d try to get him to admit

to things he didn’t do
(He was always lying, lying, liar)
to feelings he didn’t have
to meanness that wouldn’t occur to him
But he wouldn’t do it...
Truth was, he didn’t harm or want to harm her
despite what they said

“If any one of you
(There were at least twenty of them)
comes at me
I’ll bash your goddamned face in
with this fucking folding chair
Don’t think that I give a goddamn
what happens to you or me after that”

 

 

-October 12, 2013-