one year ago
in this same
afternoon light
i was empty.

Superbowl Sunday

Christen the new black colander,
it needs a name like a baby or a boat.
chili and prizes.

One hand against the sky she
casually says:
"forget this you ever happened",
another pint and it’s forgotten
though her footprint has marked dust.

and there’s a decent coat of salt on the main
three buckets,
two buckets,
one bucket,
no buckets
(okay so -1 bucket,
but
that was more than
decent).
Now:
broken line.
Now:
busted chops,
a
bus bin to empty
a
bus bin to fill
run
run
run
run
run
run
run
three stairs(:) too many.
RUN
run
run

44 hours a week.
The rest,
i sleep through.