There is a beer can bobbing on the horizon.
It poisons the sea; La Cerveza Valdez,
an opposable thumb to flip the swtich.

I think being human is an artwork.
Pierce me, flay my arms in tribal shapes,
kiss the rag of religion, break your soles

for the Hajj. Let's overpopulate the party,
trading red for blue in an endless procession
of masks. Let's straitjacket our sanity,

and document our depressions in late-night
emails, and early morning black coffee.
I lost my mind when I turned sober,

remembering what it means to forget.
There is a hospital bed in the future.
But there are pills I can take for that.