the glare

I can’t tell you
why I glared at you
that time in the midst
of the crowd. I
hope to take that secret
to my grave.

all I can say
is that your crime
was not at all
the one you thought it was,
and in fact was no crime
at all. and yet
it made me
truly furious.

chalk it up to the mystery
of the human heart,
file it under women,
inexplicable behavior
thereof, just don’t
ask me to explicate
my pitiful, pointless rage.

it’s all I have left.

Published by

R. Brookes McKenzie

what fresh hell is this

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