Evading guilt
I like my bit of dirt,
something for the nail to scratch, absent
mindedly
when my back's to the wall and my arse
on that bench
and you're bearing down righteous - anything
but eye contact. It's either
that or the bathroom
but the bathroom's where fifties
housewives cry. So you see it's two birds in one
stone cold eyes riveted
to that bit of dirt till you're done.