My first love,

she left me bleeding,

venison hanging

for the hyenas’ feeding.

It was over before

I started talking.

Her flip-flopping feet

were already off walking.

The robot within her skin

disturbed me,

when she said she was dirty

and doesn't deserve me.

My first love

never caught me creeping

outside her window

to watch her sleeping.

But, seeing her old man,

a-stumbling drunk.

I heard her scream.

Put him in my trunk.

The robot within her skin

was gone.

Her father sank through the water

and we rolled on.

Me and my first love

got away with murder

for seven years, then

come some reporter.

A pile of questions

to clean up the past,

looking for the star

of an NPR podcast.

The robot within her skin

was reborn for closure.

Dropped her in the water,

“I’m your one love,” I told her.

By Paul Resnick

From: United States