You had to be there
(unless it sucked).
Here I am, knees a-twitching,
on the phone with my landlord.
During the conversation I am
working very hard to try to
remember the dream I had
last night. Something
that
gave me a crick
way down
inside of my shoulder that
just gets worse the harder
I try to remember the dream.
Here I am: stapler, tape
dispenser, hand calendar.
Trying to remember a
surgery appointment.
Or what happened
Saturday night.
Feeling in a good
mood to short-
tempered (and
vice versa). I’ve
been forgetful all day,
with a dull pain behind
each eye.
Boring. Going
deeper.
Words are no good.
Words aren’t any good,
either. So I just sit
here
with my ear pressed into
an extra-terrestrial, imagining
backflips, hating the first half of death.
