256 Words in Free Verse
Original Link: Secrets, by Kathy Boles-Turner
The trouble with agreeing to keep a secret is
the intoxicating prize of being entrusted
wears off quick and you’ll get careless with it –
a week or so will pass
and you’ll be hurrying in from work, dying for a drink
and one half-hour of a good TV drama; you’ll kick off
your shoes, rush to the couch and leave that secret
laying about in plain sight, like the way you toss the car keys
just anywhere …
Or, you’ll get lazy at the end of a long day
and forget about it altogether, the way you forget
to bother with putting the cap back on the toothpaste.
Or, you’ll get way too cocky
and become like those self-important perpetrators –
a creepy little sociopath who returns to the scene
of a crime in hopes of being mistaken
for a helpful witness,
and it’ll go like this:
The cops will bring you in for a friendly interview,
introduce you to a sketch artist, parade a line-up past
a two-way mirror, and one thing leads to another
then you start getting cute –
you get real sarcastic, and smirk a lot,
then some rookie realizes that new pencil sketch
looks a lot like you and all of a sudden you’re led to a room
with blank walls where a nerdy little chick
starts strapping you to a polygraph.
“How dare you suspect me, I was only trying to help!”
is never going to get you out of it because the rookie watches
that same TV drama on Tuesdays at 9 p.m.
Next comes the DNA swab and you’re fucked.