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Uncivil rest

July 19, 2018

This is the room for people

who know which fork is which

and never use bad grammar

or say cuss words

Don’t worry

the man juggling glasses of red wine

won’t spill a drop

The ivory sofas and cream-colored rugs

are safe here

because blood let from razor-tongues

is invisible and

won’t stain the furnishings

And here I am

pressed against the wall

white-knuckled and wild-eyed

heart pounding in dub-step

I want to make a break for the door

but I know there is mud on my shoes

They will track me down

and insist I come back for punch and cookies

I made a mistake and

wore a white shirt one day and

they assumed I knew the secret password

I don’t have the heart to tell them

Nor do I have the heart to tell them

that I could draw them a map

of where the landmines

are buried in this room

It is impolite to speak of landmines after all

just as it is impolite to notice

that everyone in this joint

only needs one shoe.




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