With the Police

this day was hot, a day
in June's middle, not
a dog day but a day
of fever, when golfers
stayed home, washing
their clubs, going out
to dusty country roads
only for the mail,
not even thinking
of driving a Titliest
far down number twelve,
the long par five.

Jack shuffled after the cops, inside
Jen's old home, the front door
locked, the back door opened
wide, the AC left on for
no reason.

He touched nothing, but
saw Katie's photo
on the mantle, last
year's capture, Jen's
old family still
smiling, her ex
crisp in white shirt,
but probably faking it,
holding her around the neck.

He had known of their
trysts then, had secret
photos of embraces,
and beneath his
smile was corruption
and a stupid man's
concept of love
and loyalty.