Other

We would meet at mid-dusk or pre-dawn
In dark corners, cramped backseats,
In basements with no heat and only a
Chair—he took me there—under her radar,
On top of her sheets, between
Her phone calls and conversations.
He said I love you to her over
And over while I rolled my knuckles
Over and over.  We remembered, rolled
Backwards, fell, and grabbed on
Carpets, unvacuumed, from one
End of the crowded house to
Almost the other.
It stopped when she stood in the doorway,
Key hanging from her wrist.
He knelt encompassed in the
Shadow of her fist.  And with downcast
Eyes, in a single dead-aim throw,
She proved me guilty with a
Glass-house stone.