It Happened Once

It happened once that

something blew up. And for

a few days life

seemed kind of

awkward and

embarrassing.

.

But ghosts are just

dead people with bad memories. Not

us — we live like the

Lexus with alumni plates.

Other people’s memories are

everything and honesty is a

social faux pas.

.

Like a well-trained dog, heeling;

a courteous servant, kneeling;

an industrious actor, feeling.

.

Ours is the 4 a.m. frenzied fuck at

the filling station.

We flirt at funerals.

We do as we’re told.