and I’ve heard it all,
from the time you went down
on your own fraternity brother
when you were drunk
and tried to tell me it was hazing,
or the abortion
that you pretend
never happened,
or that laptop computer
that your boss still thinks
was stolen out of your office
but is actually hidden
in your apartment
in the bookcase
by your “Employee of the Month”
certificate,
and how you tell all those kids
at the church youth group
to wait until they’re married,
but they don’t know
that you’re really
just a Born Again Virgin.
I didn’t tell about
that Chinese kid
you said you adopted
but you confessed
you purchased,
and I just listened
when you told me
how your prick of a spouse
made you participate in
a threesome with
his meth’d out whore
to “save your marriage.”
I’ve heard it all
and I’ve kept your secrets,
because I know
in times of my weakness
and failure
I've confessed my secrets
my sins
but I can’t always remember
to whom.
So,
out of mutual cosmic respect
for privacy,
discretion,
and decency,
we’ll not speak of these things
anymore.
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