Do you think that you’ll remember
washing your least crusty mug
in the cracked bathroom sink at four am,
blinking afterimages of Wiki articles
and Midwestern poetry out of your eyes?
(Always the Midwestern aesthetic–
what is it about starkness that drives people?)

You’ve spent too many mornings
watching dawn from the wrong side, pacing
up and down beneath the streetlights
as they go out one by one.
The earth keeps turning but
your thoughts scattered last night
and they never came home.

The percussion is
(you heart is)
pounding,
crash ratatatat thump,
ratatatat crash, time
slipping between your fingers
in fits and starts to the beat
fluttering in your chest;
no repeats or hesitations.
The topic is–
Magpie, bird brain,
you line your nest with tinfoil
to keep the world at bay.
You’d say “I want to believe”,
but instead you just play the song again,
hoping that maybe this time—

Did it take this long to realize
you’ve answered your own question?
You have to run
when there’s nowhere to stay.
Maybe you should take a vacation
to the desert yourself,
get some dust under your nails
so you’ll stop chewing them off.
Quit glancing at the clock, sweetheart;
you’re on a timer here.