not this place,
I am not here,
where her husband with
his pointed-fingernail words scraping
is a prophet,
and when I reply
with softer ones,
I am a Judas,
and I hate to tie
myself down the way she has.

no one gets parking tickets on horses.

why don't I go to the pool anymore?
perhaps I am letting
my fear of this place
sinking into my skin like
a sunburn to the bones
get to me
and perhaps I hate
bikinis on soccer moms
(my belly is stretched
like theirs are
but I have no children
and no soccer balls)

books are quiet.
they sing along with the sounds
that children like me
don't know are not music.
I will dance to that silence.

8/13/05