Who am I become

I still get butterflies when
driving by Oldsmobile’s and
I still drink milk
fat free don’t bother me
and I still type poems in comic sans
lack the shame of my
dissatisfaction

I still get strep maybe once a year
you still trip on LSD
but you’re not crazy yet, no
I still wake standing in the bathtub draining
off nights at random, figure-8 sensations
question the light in my head
you still think there is a God and
maybe there is
but dreams don’t mean a damn thing and
I couldn’t take life seriously
realizing it was much less a choice

No, your hands, they don’t bother me
place them where you want
I could move away and will, I will
lovestranger, asexual sectional
let’s
have a drink we’ve got options
just can’t drink all the beer
save for the morning after
(harp solo)

She found us in piles of one another
at 5 am I left to find my own place
gagging in the stairwell
head spilling awash like Alfred’s fishbowl
he’ll be moving in with Carlo Rossi soon
it’s just the matter of time
and all is keeping

who am I become in passing through
she and everything
I call and I call and I call
and she say that things are good
that there is an asteroid shower, tonight
and then she say
that when things are going too well
is when she most want to
call it off,