Tone deaf, color
blind to the hues
of a man’s gestures. Bored, 

shy, turned
on, off—who can
tell? Gossip dug out 

of a dumpster, laid
in the mid-summer grass
to dry out, to cure well 

enough for a taste. I don’t eat 

meat. That’s no excuse.
I’m human. I share
secrets—only my own.