What’s that weird puddle on the counter?
Gross tea.
Broken saucer squeezed.
Couldya pour caffeine on me?
I’ll absorb it through my skin.
Didn’t I forget something
in the kitchen…
Pint glass full of air.
Belly full of beer.
Notebook full of mud.
Page after page of
“No.
That sounds dumb.”
I sift through it
with sharp stabby pen strokes.
Black pools of scribbled out
not good enough
smudge me.