Sometimes I have to remind
myself that nobody
wants to see the setlist
from the concert
that I went to by myself
on a Saturday night.  I’m
surprised whenever
anybody remembers
to invite me to sacrifice
more of my soy
milk for the common
good.  What an honor
to receive your hot take
on the state of tardigrade
liberation.  I can see clearly
from my hut the
spectres stalking the horizon
like gods nobody believed
were there.  I can’t precisely
say at what point I began
to believe my life
was over
by the recycling bin
where someone has left
a cathode-ray television
that is literally
on fire & also figuratively
on fire & also the mollusks
on which my dissertation
was writ have
fired me from their
final migration set against
the backdrop of the national
tragedy that began
when someone mailed
a banana to Warren Buffet.

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