My MetroCard's in Gatorade.
Nothing like daylight savings during Pisces season
to remind you that time isn't real outside the mirror.
I read Kafka in the back of a cab.
Dashiell Hammet in the bathroom.
Everyone I know is in Mexico City, respectively.
And I am still dreaming of Kendra Jean.
I write in the Rose Maine Reading Room,
poems about the proverbial you.
My imposter syndrome is pretending to be something it's not,
and my avocados aren't ripe yet.
It all happens at once or it doesn't happen at all.
Old Ryan knows young Ryan loved her.
My lip is bleeding but it ain't from shaving
because I haven't done that in a long time.