Get Lost

When I think of the shelf life of kinship
I don't quite relax. Consider this nothing 
Like a confession. But I would confess
Had I done something wrong. You might expect
Such consistency from me, although 
I relish inconsistency that lurks
Just behind me like some unwanted beast
Confused appearing and hovering
As though having something to say. I don't say
A word, any word. I just veer away,
After placing barricades on the seats 
On either side of me. Do all humans 
Own the capacity to take the hint 
To get lost when no reciprocity appears?

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