Look up at the top
right corner of your bathroom.
I bet you don’t look there
often, if at all
I bet you haven’t counted
hundreds of barely-there
microscopic but almost
visible regrets
(the way) I’ve counted
each letter of your name
before I rearranged
them to spell out mine

I’m not saying I’m special.

I am not any less grateful
than the next sullen crash test
dummy
picked out of the bunch
but I’m wondering why
why it had to be me
cold, cold philosophy
the taste of inductive logic
still sits **** and bitter on my tongue
I spit and spit
and spit;
**** it all
to metaphorical hell