A Person of Interest

When the television newscaster said
the police were searching for
a person of interest
I wondered if that might be me.
I wondered if I might be,
a person of interest.
I have always been a suspect,
I suspect, in crimes I’ve never confessed.
A criminal involved from the start in unsolved cases
of premeditated larceny of the heart.
My record a litany of melancholy felonies
I’ve committed and have not admitted to.
An accomplice in original sin,
a receiver of stolen kisses,
a Siamese twin cat burglar
anxiously awaiting someone to release
an all points bulletin for him.
My hands are bloodied from killing time,
and I’m ready to confess all my crimes.
I shot off my mouth and killed my chances.
I shot the messenger and buried his body
on the grounds of the abandoned amusement park.
There are skeletons in my closet.
I am a serial killer of dreams
who has buried the hatchet I used.
I have made so many shots in the dark
and readily admit to shooting for the moon.
I pray someone will catch me soon and
I will gladly confess at my arrest
to being a person of interest.