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at the dashboard, spilling
my darkest secret
to her. Rather

than running
from it, calling
me crazy, despite

my expectations
of awkwardness,
my exile,
she asks me, “What if

they were right?
What if, in some way,
you are one
of them?” Terror

floods me. Fuck
you, beautiful friend.

Cannot be.
I refuse to believe.
How could you suggest
to me… ? Then you

drift away. Then you run
away from me. Our last
real conversation:

did I scare you?
Are you frightened
that I am insane

or an alien?


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