sometimes i let myself do it, if i feel like it’s healthy.
irreversible climate change or
nuclear war or
kidnapped or
pushed on to the tracks or
the bathtub?
i’ve never picked a place for the last one,
it’s just always something i do,
the place doesn’t seem to matter in my head.


there is a man to my left with a twenty foot power cord,
one of those thick black ones
like they use at construction sites.
he’s wearing those headphones
that are so large that
you don’t call them headphones,
you call them over-ear monitors.


this isn’t a poem, it’s just prettier than a paragraph.


there is a man to my right
and he’s eating his yogurt like a bird.
plunging his head down to the table
where the plastic container rests, 
moving the spoon between the swamp and his mouth
in little two inch microjourneys.
i wonder what i look like when i eat a cheeseburger at five guys.