Every night
there’s a fresh
police
lineup
in the
two-way windows
of the
apartment opposite mine.
I finger my
chin.
Well, I say
slowly, that one
there –
third floor, second window
from the
left – definitely
looks
familiar,
but I
really couldn’t say for sure,
wouldn’t
want to put
some poor
soul away unjustly.
They seem
terribly
disappointed,
but what
else can I do?
In my heart
I know
it’s always
sounder to trust
the
circumstantial
evidence.
(Originally appeared in Issue 9 of Congruent Spaces)
