Sociopath by Terese Coe

Floating Dock

Among the elements
river and sky
no reason exists 
to dissemble or lie.

The floating dock 
rolls and lifts
in hypnotic motion.
Attention shifts

to where laughter is easy
and lightness attests
to the Hudson River 
driving the crests, 

and following wind,
following surge
of current and shiver,  
the frequencies merge.


And all the while he was on the make
for what-all and whatever he could take.
The four or five women he saw as his cross,
he scammed them all–his gain, their loss,
and every lie he told to beach them
puffed him up like a sucking leech.
Dashing, he grinned with every line 
though he never managed a genuine laugh
till he cadged his last on a wooden craft
that trailed his texts from a left-behind phone. 
Fifteen years of humble brags 
were never enough to fill his bags.


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