This morning you opened a door for me
And asked me rather sweetly how I was
And I stared at my face reflected above your shoulder
And scanned it for emotion
Before nodding and saying fine.

You walked away to some masculine class
Where you lifted weights and complained about errant girlfriends
While I went to the restroom
Locked myself in a stall
And puked.

I suppose your dad made excuses before you could
I bet he assured you that it wouldn’t affect whatever sports you did at the time
I bet he thought about slipping a crisp bill in an envelope
And setting it on the superintendent's desk.

And I know you joked to your cocky little friends
That the ***** took everything too seriously
Because after all
You were only joking
Right?

The superintendent looked over glasses and pink slips of paper
And assured me that he knew your parents
And in fact your father had given him a root canal the day before
And he was very sure this was all some misunderstanding
And it would be resolved quickly and quietly.

I had to steel myself
I expected it
Waited for it
And there it was.

You probably just liked me.
That was the problem
You were so very confused
And ever-so-innocent
And a student who brought so much good publicity
Couldn’t possibly be a detriment
Could he?

It was just like in elementary
Where the bruises on my wrist
Were written away as a love bite
A little sign of devotion
And I should be grateful.

I hear you’re off to a college on the coast
For free
Even though you stole answers off my papers
And glances down my shirt.

I hope you enjoy it
I hope you pretend to care about physics
And I hope the essays you buy are worth the money
And I hope the parties are lively
And the ***** rich.

But when you slip
In the backseat of your Mercedes
Because you liked her too much
Don’t believe what they tell you
I' ll know your guilt
As clearly as the moonlight caught in her watering eyes
And I will make you know it.

Until then
I’ll square my shoulders
Rinse the taste from my mouth
Glare at myself in the fluorescent light
And will the emotion away
One more time.

What if Neil tripped down those famed steps
One small st-
And collapsed in a heap of vacuum-resistant debris
Cracked glass and aspiration
Shame-sweat beading on his brow
And the president’s hands hit his horseshoe forehead and he frowned like the big man he was
And the mayor pounded his fist against the mahogany recently polished by the secretary
And the wrists of socialite women hit their foreheads and they gasped and crumpled on to couches white with scrubbings
And the children thought he was ducking-and-covering, just like Ms. Merryweather said
And the Haight-Ashbury hoodlums didn’t notice because the needle was already sunk in like incisors
And the traitors giggled ****-you's in their colonies festering like mold?

This town is too small for secrets
The sidewalks are adorned with names and dates
Of couples whose love dissolved twenty years ago
While moss oozes out of the letters.

This town is too small for secrets
Through windows at night
The citizens play out their dollhouse lives
And dysfunction is locked away in grandmother’s armoire.

This town is too small for secrets
Where bars close at seven in the morning and open an hour later
And the tenders are purveyors of free psychiatry
Who put advice in bowls between stale peanuts
And place them on the counter.

This town is too small for secrets
Every hour the two churches compete for the loudest bells
But the protestant one always wins
And the Catholics having mass ignore its pleading voice
But whisper politely in each other’s ears
About the scandalous protestors out on Main.

This town is too small for secrets
With its coffee shops littered with youth
Who deny their wealth through coffee steam
And discuss the state of countries they can’t place on a map
And slowly leach out in to the frigid rain
Back to new cars and million-dollar homes
Where daddy pays the bills.

This town is too small for secrets
The college students drink their scholarships in red plastic cups
And scuttle towards their shared flats
Collapse in to bed too tired to sleep
Stare at the ceiling and wonder why they didn’t transfer
Three semesters ago.

This town is too small for secrets
With its gated communities of retirees
Where the homes are manufactured
And the walls papered with the smiling faces of clean-cut grandchildren
And the rebellious ones packed away
From the neighborhood gossip’s prying eyes.