Pardon my French, my language,
the expletives that have selected
this moment to show themselves,
so enthusiastic and unladylike.
Pardon me, forget what I said,
let me unzip the air between us
and let my words get sucked out
into the galaxy’s gaping maw.
Pardon the partition. I’ve placed
it between us for your protection,
you can pretend to be there when
you aren’t, absorptive as silence.
Pardon my trespasses, and also
the jaywalking incidents in which
I was so clearly at fault, scaring
the pants off the driver of that car.
Pardon me for my failure to RSVP,
for not répondez-ing in a timely
manner more befitting of someone
at the mercy of the great athlete, time.
Pardon me a thousand times over
what you think I would require
as far as forgiveness goes, round
up, be generous, Southern accent.
Pardon me for deciding what
you want and do not want to hear,
for assuming that you have never
encountered bad manners before.