i wonder if i should buy cigarettes
and if i should steal something to eat

earlier i thought about possible places
i could hang myself
in my apartment

my internet is out again

i am standing at my kitchen sink crying

i am doing the dishes

The sallow cowboy
asks you to dance so you
put the limes down &
accept. Flat in his
arms, tracing the
baseboards, faces leering
around you with beer
bottle noses & hands
made of foam. The room
queers quickly, blending,
then spirals, & the cowboy’s
hand on your back is a knob,
a way to open you up, & out.