I’m pretty bad
At being on purpose.
What these things mean —
A steel chain airbrushed
A smooth gradient from purple to orange.
I’m thinking of Bishop’s Santarém,
Of course, I may be remembering it all wrong.
A case of Fiji water is $47.50
Online, I know because I looked
It up. I am afraid of being forgotten.
I’m begging you to remember this:
Wouldn’t it be great to have a
Refrigerator filled with plastic bottles of Fiji
Water, the entire thing
Sitting on chrome rims?
Here I am wanting to write bad poetry
Because it feels correct to write badly —
When I was looking at rims
I found out
The ones I have my heart set on
Are $1200 each, as if
One would just buy one.
I’m disobeying again, I can’t not.
Hopefully, I’ll die an orphan, I know
I wanted to be born one — and played
One for years with all my
Friends and un-confidants
behind the downstairs couch.
I never tire of desire, I’m thirsty
With it, and I like when it’s handed
To me. But, in my hand it seems wanting.
Most of my things are real pieces of
Junk. I love them. It’s only
They can’t dance and I can—
There’s the difference. My broken
Toy motorcycle goes in circles without joy.
I go in circles without much joy.