One of the poems I wrote yesterday, in a workshop, subject to editing and change.
For Michelle
When he told you
“There are other girls
who are
cuter
than you.”
When he gave you
his letterman’s jacket
because, he figured,
you’d like his name
on your
back.
When he made you
buy his ticket
to your high school prom.
When he made you
buy his
tux
too.
When he fucked you
in the back seat
of his restored Mustang.
When he shrugged
after it was over
and your prom dress
was in ruins.
When he asked why you called so late
when our friend, Cindy,
died in a car accident
at 19.
When he said
“She’ll still be dead
in the morning.”
And hung up
on you.
When you took his letterman’s jacket outside,
struck a match
and watched
it burn.
When he called you
and wanted
his
letterman’s jacket
back.
Filed under: poetry
