I keep things
to myself
because the world
is so exploitive.
Because your best
friend will take
everything you
have, and consider
it their due,
which it might be
if they gave something

She tells me
of a clypto
she has cut ties
with. Who took
brown paint
and then called to
say, “I’m re-doing
my hall.”

I guess we all
want to get caught.
So karma can do its
Leaving fingerprints
we have been.
The way my heart
is marked
by your neglect.

You’d think
now & then
there could be
an encounter
without violence
of some sort,
that we could meet
without the need
to get something
that will justify ourselves.