We were at the party
With your friends from work,
Nice enough people,
But boring,
As we agree.
Someone said,
“Nice shirt, Bill.”
You replied,
“Yeah, I got it
Last month when
I was in Miami.”
When you said this, you avoided eye contact with me
Or at least you did not look at me, maybe by accident,
But I think on purpose.
Of course, I was with you
On the trip in question.
So you might have said
“When I was in Miami, with Mary.”
Which has a nice alliterative ring.
Thank you very much.
Instead, you did not mention my name,
Or say “We were” instead of “I was.”
Because I was not with you when
You bought the shirt.
For the news revealed is that,
You bought the shirt
When you were with
Her.
For all I know, she chose the shirt for you
With its flowery pattern and
Bright colors that are not really my
Style.
I don’t really care about that.
Not now. Not after I know the story
That you kept hidden from me.
Nor am I bothered that you edited me out
Of our vacation together in
Miami, Florida, U.S.A.
Where the sun shines and the
Beaches are clean and sandy,
and oh-so
Dandy.
What I want to know, what I care about,
Is a simple question.
Here it is:
By removing me from
Your little history,
Which one of us were you trying to save
From embarrassment?
Was it you, me, or her?
I care about the tiny details.
I care about emotions, especially my own.
But yours, too. The truth?
I also was plotting my escape
From marriage
During our vacation,
Which I find sad and amusing.
And I also feel guilty about it.
So tell me again about the party and your comment about the shirt.
What did you feel when you were speaking?
Nothing? Anything?
C’mon, you can tell me.
It’s safe. I want to know.
I won’t make a stink.
Just tell me the truth.
I want to know.
Tell me, and you can leave
With a clear conscience.
I just want to know with
Whom I’ve been living
These many years.