Can You Hear Me Now?
This joke dates me.
(I
picture our honeymoon
in Paris. On
prime-time).
Thanks for nothing, Pres-
idential Debate! I
can
whimper but I’m too
tired to tweet.
Company comes like
a nightmare I’m greedy
for. There is a long
conversation but I
keep thinking about
anniversaries. The
anniversary of his
thin limbs. The
anniversary of
my desire. This
makes company
somewhat fascinating.
I’m staring at the chef
splitting eggs single-
handedly. I mean.
Very fluid movement.
Maybe a dozen eggs
into a very huge pot.
I like to feel the heat
of his stove while I’m
eating my breakfast.
My voice is resonant.
I mean I don’t think
I’ve ever had any
trouble being heard.
When I speak. Be-
cause I’m pretty loud
I think. I don’t have
a very pleasant-
sounding voice.
I’ve been told.
