It seems a lot of women
are married to handsome psychopaths
or sociopaths these days.
It's much the same thing, you know.

They always have a certain charm
of innocence. Often with a blond fringe
that needs cutting. People like them.
They are fun to be with.

But if you sit down for a while
and contemplate the crocodile,
one realises you only know the clever hide;
the reptile within plays with its food.

By then its prey has swum too deep
within the delta of the lies;
white-painted doors without a key
close in on her and she wonders:

is it me?