Indelible

 The second, the fifth, the fiftieth time
 he grants himself access.
 The third, the sixth time
 this happens in one day.

 The old plastic cups in his car.
 The veins on his forearm.
 The low skies; the unseasonable
 cold. The smell of burley
 tobaccos in his office. Scotch
 mints on his breath. His badge.

 His wit, his reputation.
 His family, your family.

 The key turning, the unspoken
 threat, the unspeakable.

 His anger, as if
 this was your fault.

 His laughter, as if
 nothing had happened.