—purported
last words of Steve Jobs
I’m lucky like a
four-leaf clover
—Jennifer
Lopez
I love you so much that sometimes I forget
to laugh. But isn’t
it okay to be stupid
so long as you’re not running the country
or anything?
Sometimes, sometimes
I want to drive this metaphor into a
popsicle. Pop-sickles
don’t like me
much. I still don’t
get the joke about
Foucault in the pool with Duchamp
trying to name at least five sexual
positions. But I
haven’t taken my
eyes off you since.
[This is when
you get up out of bed, brush your
teeth, and then walk into the kitchen.
You’re in your pajamas, but you’ve got
purpose. Like how you
always wear
clothes to bed.] He
doesn’t think I can
hear the jingle bells.
For Halloween
he’s going to wear a psychic on his
shoulder. It’s
Halloween and it’s
always jingle bells, jingle bells,
jingle bells. In a
minute I need to
figure out how to code katakana
in HTML. Life is like
that, I
guess. I even
purchased exorbitantly
overpriced file folders at The Container
Store the other day.
This makes me think
of you, of course.
But I still don’t believe
that Target will put them out of business.
Okay, fine, you’re in the shower now,
but no less an object of desire. You
might think that’s ironic because
your memory is worse than mine.
Why should I expect you to
remember my every aversion,
anyway? It’s a day
like this.
One where I promise yoga
and wind up crouched at a curb
on Clay Street trying to photograph
through a gutter grill.
It starts raining
and I’m all wet. Like
you. The
universe is my connection.
