Me and You
You could have torn into me, flayed me
for what I did: about to leave for work
you found I'd taken your car keys from
the drysink by the door: Say it isn't so!
But you phoned me as my train was hurtling
to D.C., the first day after the big snow,
enforced lay-off. I bundled off next stop,
at New Carrollton, stepped in a white mess
of ice-melting chemical on the platform,
smeared my boots, and caught the next train
straight back home, replanned my day, aargh.
I could have been on the menu, parts of me
advertised for ravishment at McDonald's.
It is what we choose, the shoes we wear,
the decisions we make, the routes we take.
Christopher T. George