Forgive me, I did not mean to copy your life.
I could not reach you, so I too,
donned a pink blouse and played the guitar. The clumsy note
made a soft shape and stood by me.

The financial newsletter beckons the era coming.
Analysts refer to it as the great age of resignation.
People are finding better jobs, and realizing their anger
not just as necessity, but as belonging.

I am asked what my health insurance will look like in the next year.
Someone confides in me that they are feeling sick. I, too, am sick.
But I am unable to say this. During the job interview,
I unfold a stone by breaking it in my hands — to reveal a pebble inside.

I did not know my own maturity. I did not know
how it was a small thing wrapped in leaves.
Another coin in the apology jar. It seems
I cannot stretch the blanket covering my eyes, to hold you too.

Heart as diligence. My chest feels cold today,
and I can feel a shadow moving past me, to make dinner.
The food, made from a material so light that it could only be
considered an idea, is not made for me.

As the sun sets, a green martian lands on my neighborhood block.
He asks me politely where the employment office is.
I point him towards the banking district,
and wish him a joy so great, I am unable to speak again.

The world is ending like an equation.
As the ground shifted into an old man’s love,
I fell to a laying place, and held my hands
so close together I spoke a different language.