it’ll come back around. years from
now when you’re
sitting all alone at the
applebee’s bar in temple city
because it’s the Only place that’ll
have you and your whiskey, with
scant hair left on your head,
surrounded by
sad sack strangers,

lonely and wondering how you ended
up in such a shit spot, and what you
may have forgotten all those years back,
while you were so busy
weaponising self-preservation?

don’t fucking call me.