Tailgating Habits

We’re spies, you and I

special agents of interpersonal espionage
engaged in ceaseless interrogation

I confess
I intercepted your sideways glances
while you searched my skull for classified documents
detailing romantic intentions.
You were right to suspect
my casual cover-up lies
of hiding plans
meant for your eavesdropping
eyes only

eyes that will give us away

our eyes that connect
and communicate
broadcasting beams
decrypted in real-time by high-tech
iris decoder rings
into secret affirmations
that betray our thoughts like
four ocular defectors

Forgive our overeager, double-agent eyes
There must be an easier way to speak

Fortunately, we’re authors, you and I

We scribble libraries of hand-written volumes
for flesh-bound self-publication.

Once upon my chest
you strung silent symbols
into novellas with rib-caged protagonists
who whisper their secrets in each beckoning beat

Your fingers signed
like ten soft-tip pens
sent splatter-mark ink-splotch shapes across the page
—these shapes that run and beat
and burst
when we read

pronouncing aloud these fingertip lip-prints
phonetically rendered on college-ruled skin.
But I don’t have the tongue to utter
anything this systematically reckless
Instead I commit the sounds to paper
in pages that sing
and pages that scream
We’re dichotomous, you and I!
and we each chose our own conflicting sides.

I've stolen these words
This is all the unity I can write
My poetic license will be revoked for the crime

So it’s been me
ignoring red lights and black-and-white speed limit signs
It’s been me
versus spike strips and wailing sirens
It’s been me versus you
in intimate pursuit
my blinkers ablaze with spasmodic Morse-code
translations of these pages
streams of dots and dashes that,
roughly, read:

Drop your tailgating habits
You won’t catch a thing

Still I leave clues in anagrammatic vanity plates,
rearrangements of truth
in non-sequential masquerade

Believe the message if you figure it out

For now, let me apologize
I'm a coward
but you’re still alive
and there's still time

We’re connected, you and I
we who spy and speed and write

The End

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