that feeling when you've actually had an accident
and your first thought at leering eyes is,
it wasn't me
out of all the marks,
this one wasn't me
and the fact that you defend this one
when you're covered from wrist to shoulder,
this one wasn't me
when your special case is inverted
when most ones were you
when you remember the ones that weren't you better than the ones that were
when the ones that were you are too many to count
when the lines all blur into one
and all you want to make clear is,
this one wasn't me,
when you're proud to tell the story of
blueberry cornbread or
french toast or
breaking a shelf
the rest,
the ones that were you
have no stories
and while I'm sure anyone would agree the weight of each of those is much heavier than any kitchen mishap or clumsy mistake
I think it's better to concentrate on the ones that weren't you
they're a lot easier to count