3/30

Lies

The first time I lied to a woman was unintentional
my mother’s face a sunset over a dying playground

she found me pitiful, palms and knees searching streetlights
and arcade alibis at one in the morning

the second time was a rehearsed crossbow thru a young girls throat
my hands an earthquake inside her jeans preceded by exaggerated experience

lie seven wrapped its way around my freshman teacher’s neck
my writing assignment, still caught in the jaws of my father’s threats

before such threats had materialized, my happy home a detail
that never made it into my teacher’s view of my floundering work ethic

the seventh time was easy, as second nature as blood
my home has become an attack survived heart with a collapsed stint

there is blood on my collar, my Nike Airs, the book bag I stole
off a kid that used it to sell acid in the school parking lot

yet, I tell my guidance counselor, we are healthy pride in my home
lions that will never develop the taste for each other

number twelve cried for Noah, a flood of my adlib
could not wash away the scent of her classmate

the twentieth lie broke thru my teeth, its razors dripping down my lips
like rain water off an aging roof. Love is at its most vulgar when said in obligation

the truth bounced around her dorm room like an atom
never landing on anything she could hold in her weather torn palms

after succumbing to the weight of her eyes, I confessed to her stomach
her hands clasped behind my neck, a mercy breath away from smothering me against her

she told me to stop counting, the pressure of record keeping my imperfections
would ripen me to a practice I wouldn’t easily let go of