alabaster

[evidence of some very minor crime]

a fly was buzzing around my head

the entire time i read your latest diary entry.

i had been lying in the grass thinking about you, my knees gone brown with dirt,

the pokey blades pressed into my skin

evidence of some very minor crime.

without much evidence

and nobody to blame.

lustily loved and feeling de-poetized.

it’s quite embarrassing

how easily the body believes in a person.

i lie down in the grass and think of you

and suddenly i am covered in the physical proof of it:

green stained legs, mosquito bite polka dots, pink indentations on alabaster skin that the  grass leaves behind

when i finally stand up

i look at my knees

and feel, for a moment,

almost accompanied by you

then the marks disappear.

that is the part i hate.

scenes of jealousy lacerate me

but leave me feeling innocent,

always innocent.

innocence remains even after

when i am sick

i still put on Gunsmoke

or jerry springer for comfort.

people shouting from television sets,

cowboys, brothels, somebody insisting that she did not sleep with him,

it lulls me to sleep

the stupid fly kept buzzing around my head.

i wanted you there

in the stupid grass with me.

it doesn’t have to be poetically.

just there.