She asks me
Where my hat is
When I show up
Without it,
While I might
Ask as much
Of her,
Since one picture
She sent me
Had her looking
Like a detective,
Her steady gaze
Staring out at me
Making me wonder
Where she keeps
Her gun and handcuffs
And does she bust
People in her
Spare time,
And is this what
She has planned for me,
Meeting like this
At a very public diner,
And I struggle
To remember
What crime I committed –
Hoping she isn’t privy
To all those things
I’ve done in my head,
Late at night
With the phone
Under my pillow,
Maybe she needs me
To wear my hat
So I fit the mug shot
She keeps in her head
At night.
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