ignoring the coffee he bought on the way to the park
when I confide in him about her,
glancing around as if expecting her to pop out of nowhere
and uncover our tiny conspiracy,
and the more he denies being involved
the more convinced I am he is,
and I get jealous,
he telling me she confided in him about her stalker
and I wonder if he got the same call from her
as I had some dark night when
she claimed to be afraid her stalker might come
and needed me (or him) to protect her,
an excuse I believe she used to get me (he) to her apartment,
though what might have transpired there with him,
I cannot say,
though he licks his lips so much as we talk
I suspect the worse
(or best if he did what he denies doing)
and I get jealous again,
but keep that part hidden from him
when I confess everything else,
as if he is my priest with me needing absolution.
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