Migelina

The soup is viscous
able to float my deeds
as they cannonball
from loose lips

I avoid looking at her
for she has long used bitter skin
to cloak her eyes into agreement I do not exist.

I have wronged her
I have not wronged her
She stole from me
She gave to me
Perhaps I should have paid her more
and used her less
so I could sit as a human again

The way she makes me invisible
I consider to be painful
the ache of answers
returning as questions.


(She was stealing time from me, lying on her time card. I let her go. It was six years ago. I see her now and then. I said "Hello" to her for the first year. I got no response. Now I pretend she is invisible too. Today we lunched as ghosts.)
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