I’m headed toward a terrible outcome.
How can I be sure? Ask anyone.
They’ll tell you. How my Italian marble
is too white and how I give in to myself
way too easily, slumped over my arm
without coordinates or any place to go.
A little understanding please
no finger-pointing or shaking heads
as though I’m guilty of some terrible crime
picking me apart
from your pillar of self-importance
snapping selfies with a dumb smile.
Stop trying to make me
into something I’m not.
I mean that woman drenched in purple.
Does her husband even have a dick?