2
It’s a law no one follows.
Even so, they pull me from the line
and quote Kant’s Categorical Imperative
and then laugh at my discomfiture.
One of them looks something like my older brother,
the same brown eyes and ironic manner.
“Just tell what happened in the order it happened,”
my heart blandly advises.
I would, but all I can recall at this distance
is a car honking for me to come out
and the moon being lynched from a lamppost
and not enough light.