Blame the barroom, its cheap booze and sly grins. Blame familiar myths, feigned laughter, slow waltzes. Blame the secret door knock. Blame the frayed darkness, blue lights, licentious thoughts. Clinched fists, sucker punches, and split lips. Blame the slender-legged woman in the alley, asking strangers for a light. Blame the thigh highs and her offer for a nightcap. Blame the misplaced, blame the misguided. Blame the broken-down Ford and the dim parking lot. Blame each quarrel, every wrong turn. Blame the tear-stained fractured fairytales people recite instead of the truth. Blame charm bracelets and sundresses. Blame back porches and screen doors. Blame blues bands, gravel roads, cautionary tales. Lip gloss and bubblegum. Failed promises and reluctant apologies. Blame the foul-mouthed. Blame the foul-weathered. Blame the edges, tempting us to fall again.
Copyright 2015, Adrian S. Potter
Adrian S. Potter writes poetry and short fiction. He’s author of the fiction chapbook Survival Notes (Červená Barva Press, 2008) and winner of the 2014 Lebanon Poets’ Society Free Verse Poetry Contest. Additional propaganda is at http://adrianspotter.squarespace.com/.