slip-ups
Meeting you took a moment,
a handshake,
but knowing you...
a challenge I have to take.
Once, I think you almost said,
"I am human. I am fallible."
Once, I wanted to reply,
"I can take what you can tell."
Fear or discretion
steals back your words
as they hang in the air
and, as they go, I feel
a breeze swirl at my neck,
whisper at my ear
"There are things you will not hear."
But, sometimes, you cannot stop,
or don't want to,
and you let a pebble loosen,
tumble,
bouncing down that rampart's side,
gaining momentum as it loses altitude.
Did you think I'd forgotten my hard hat?
You turn away, as though
'twas nothing but the clicking
of mystery's heels on the pavement,
as she walks toward someone
more worthy of shadows.
You slip up sometimes, you know -
you do know.
How many retractions equal security?
How many guesses shall I make?
I have my suspicions
that the world will not end
if you let something drop
butter-side-down on the kitchen floor.
I have an inkling
that you know that I know
and that your secrets
will always be yours.
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written works © April Palleria, 2002