To the Understudy

It is true I am afraid of the stranger in men.

On the Internet some woman kneeling
provocatively.

O one of many crickets
I crumpled into toilet paper,
deafening.

Where are the lacy
Christening gowns. The babies
leaning headstrong.

Took a walk in my neighborhood
past the church. Touched the
freshly painted siding, my side
that said sit down girlfriend.

Sidle up and let's watch
the traffic like faces for
confirmation.

The night sky that does not
twinkle, the headlights
one

after another

not friendly eyes
averting.

I know I will probably die
with no one
around. I'm not sick or
anything

like that—
there they go. There they go again.