A Rolodex of Alibis

A Rolodex of Alibis

(“The tax-collectors and prostitutes are going into God’s kingdom ahead of you!” Matthew 21:31)

I want to live so close to the bottom of things
that there is no place to fall.

Let me stumble into it every day.

I want a head start from the back of the line,
a 100-yard dash untimed. There are better conversations,
deeper fascinations after the crowd has gone home.

I’ve heard the sea floor is polluted;
I may have contributed some.
Tempted to float above it all,
I’m too weightless to matter.

I want to meander with the undemanding,
I want to discover the spectrum just
out of hearing. I want to breathe the dark
midnight air and find
the songs so unbuttoned that our voices
fail.

I used to keep a rolodex of alibis,
reasons to place me far beyond the crimes,
but now I list every visit,
smoke and wine, grain and mud,
and leave the search and rescue behind.

This may disappoint you; this may be
the final spin
that slings you outside my orbit.

This may be
the unleavened bread
that we break, human and touch,
like mudpies and pollywogs. I want to live

Undisguised.