I have one secret in my

pocket and one on a chain around

my neck. I keep one in

my handkerchief drawer and one

under my bed. Sometimes I

forget where they are. I’ve

stopped caring about people finding

them because there’s

just too many. I’ve mastered

the bland look on my face,

the curious smile, the

“oh, didn’t you know?”

People are stumbling over

them all the time. My

lovers bump into each

other in closets, people

I’ve betrayed compare

notes over coffee and donuts.

There’s no use keeping a

scorecard. My secrets have so

saturated the market that

nobody cares anymore.

by Cher Bibler