Murmerings

there is an odour beyond the fence
six feet over
the ground i lie upon

and the voice asks
can you smell it too?
i am
exposed

with my flimsy parts
covered by shuffling nylon
shorts, nothing else

i agree, and pronounce
it wasn't me - over the fence
she is measuring me

oh my, I must relax -
oiled and sun-baked -
the glazing sun huddles
her face in glare - i stare

and as murmerings
threaten from below
my eyes close -

"I am here alone."

But she is gone.
The smell remains -
Disappointment
Anger
Sun-baked rage.