Avoiding Detection

Editing inspired by Geoff's lie detection know-how. 

Avoiding Detection

At the airport, at security, I’m not.

I’ve got the look

of someone with sneakers full of little bombs,

detonators between my toes.

On the interstate, when a cop car lurks,

idle in the median,

I can’t seem to keep straight the wheel

as a sober person should: without trying

too hard. You look at me, I look off.

The bomb behind my ribs wobbles

my legs like a drunk’s legs;

your voice resonating in me: the detonator.

Why feel so suspect trying to get any place

as if love takes lives on its way?

Only lint is between my toes, and it’s not you who’s going

to explode if you find the button your finger is on,

it’s me.