plastic casing of grubby cash
avoiding the truth of my priviledge and circumstance
thirteen bruises and grabbing some ***
and here I am drunk, doing a dance

walk around
turn around

pop the lid off a beer with a fork
and remember, so sweet, and so cold,
how young you were fourteen hours ago

trudge in the mud of sculpted strip mall gardens
hedge around a wedge of forgotten iceburg lettuce

and let me know between the waves of coffee and Lexipro
what it must've meant
to turn twenty-two, a month ago