May 2005 / Volume Six / Issue Three
Lisa LaTourette
warning for Mr. Smith

for you
that girl became everything
you could have wanted
& more than you've ever deserved;
an angel bruised
in the face of your filthy smile;
it was summer,
you drove with the windows
rolled down
& the wind tossed her hair
when she bent to light
her cigarette, her eyes unruly,
lit up with the green glow
of the dashboard,
but you saw the broken parts,
her aloneness like a fractured limb
under your x-ray gaze;
your obvious lies, the cracks
in your stories bigger than the ones
covering your dishwasher's hands, ok, so
you've always blended in
with your last name & your
bone dead eyes
& I know why you don't wish
to be remembered,
maybe she's forgotten you,
but I haven't.
RETURN to May 2005