Act Nonchalant

Act Nonchalant

When a cop stops next to me
at a red light. When I encounter
a stranger in the hall,
on the way to the trash chute.
Before the blood pressure cuff
grips my bicep and then again,
while it tightens and I imagine
my arm down the throat of a snake.
When returning the rental car,
with or without a scratch.
While the suitcase gets weighed
at the airport. With my fingers
pressed onto the glass, to leave
an image of my fingerprints,
no ink. With the car door biting
down on my pinky. With the wasps
nipping at my arms.