For Michelle

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.

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