Scientists say
that tears shed
in sadness
(bitter)
taste differently
from those spilled
in joy
(sweet)
and sweat
due to stress
smells worse
than what's excreted
in work and in sex
though the two
are sometimes
the same
but with you
for a change
the two
aren't identical.
You'll always
have that letter
I sent.
Most jokes
start in prison
or to get into
her pants;
not this one.
You receive
congratulations
from a number
you haven't seen
in too long.
Drawing from
your mess of genetics
and affiliated curses
you choose not
to react (your mother)
and wait a few hours
to respond (your father
who art in heaven)
denying the state
of fatherhood
wrongfully bestowed
upon you
based on photographs.
You rise from
that shotgun blast
still easy on the eyes
of the blind
and do your best
to celebrate complexity
going all out
to clean everything
but your soul.
May used to be
your favorite month;
when you were conceived.
It's winning.
"You've been talking a lot of shit."
"There's a lot of shit to talk."
"Are you hurting?"
"I'm hurting."
"Are you happy?"
"Nah."
"Are you happy for them?"
"Begrudgingly."
"Carry on."
"Does it get better?"
"Only if you let it."
"You're welcome for the overtime."
"I'm salaried, but thanks."
Artificial sweeteners
antiperspirants' aluminum
arsenic in apple seeds
asbestos everywhere
living next to power lines
secondhand smoke
firsthand smoke
not enough sunlight
too much sunlight
the hole in the ozone layer
mixing bleach and ammonia
carbon monoxide
mercury in old thermostats
yellow 5 food dye
most things (but only in California)
will kill you eventually
though nothing will do it faster
harder, and with less remorse
than the dopamine deprivation
when there's nobody left
to love
you.
Cut so deeply
by another one
you've loved
you slice open
the parcel
sent to her
old address
slightly aroused
by the sweet revenge
of a federal offense
when it hits you:
A sheet of
bubble wrap
a flattened
cardboard box
and return labels
in duplicate
in case there is
a mistake
when you realize
you've made one.
