My Alibi

There should be outs
my alibi
lovers in arms
fantasy hotels

imagine my luck
spent turpentine hours
so I could live over ground
wet fingers to orgasm

promises in bed
the back stairwell
there should be outs
the umbrella of
street traffic

half a world away
from the rest of the sweat
ducking into alleys
where chickens roam free
as men.