If I could be the 1990s,
I’d be
the O. J. Simpson trial.

You would go through me
certain
of certain things.

I would put on
airs and gloves
demonstrating that nothing fits.

Someone would notice
that the narrative
fails at key points,

and someone
would raise a fatal,
reasonable doubt…

then all hell would break loose
and you’d swear never to forgive me
for raising your prurient hopes. 

If I were the 1990s,
if I were the Simpson trial,
would you revisit me now?

Would you whisper 
“maybe I got it wrong?”
when you saw me again?

Would you take
all the factors into account
and reassess and realign?

If I were the 1990s
would you be willing 
to relive me

even if you could never be sure
that I was not the dark stain
you have always thought me to be?