Who am I. I am where the blame comes to settle. I am the skunk in forest hill on the other side of the bridge closer to where the free months rent signs down the block sort of look like life jackets if I squint from afar. From afar I know you miss me. I said who will I become if I don’t know who I’ve been. Just like him. I’m evil. They said good writing is clarity and truth but what would you bitches even do if you knew. I can’t stand you. I don’t look. I won’t look. I write you off. Less about you and more about me. Always. When the blame settles on me I wear it well. Place it on me I wear it well. I do it well. I’m becoming. Whatever me wants me to be. Place it on me I wear it well. I do it well. I’m becoming.
Who am I. Ways to escape appear before me as soon as I dream them. And dreaming now, I do without you. Still, I thank you. Still, I loved you.