Alibi

That kid at the bus stop had his thumb

pressed hard against a pack of Marlboros,

hiding them for the boy in the hoodie.

It was that look—the flick of the eyes,

the quick, shallow breath of the caught.

I remember the smell of the creek water

dripping from my sister’s hair

onto the kitchen linoleum.

I watched the way the yellow squares

seemed to vibrate while I spoke.

"She was at the library," I said,

"Biology is harder than she thought."

My father didn't move.

I stared at the dirt under my nails

and waited for the air in the room

to finally snap in half.