you believed me once. I was once
believed. of all the integrity's born
of cigarettes, there are none that
come close to the way the world
sunk like a shattered lillypad the
day we parted offices. offices. if
I could do it all over again, the rain
would be in space and the sun would
be what masks the wet. instead,
optimism demands my attention
like an angry vocational counsellor
(thankfully I ignored that job posting).
receipts, tissues, medication, torn envelopes,
iPhone, guitar, empty mug sticky stained
bottom and sticks of cancer- please tell me
there's a reason I should live to 100.