scribbling regina spektor lyrics along my thumb and the
ragged edges of my feet,
the need for music is so intense i even wear headphones in the bathtub,
grinning at the twisted inside joke between the soapsuds and the song.
i always wake with a start, giggling at the shower head,
as if it’s surprising that sweat and the smell of strawberries have the ability to drag me into depression- no, dreams. or is it-
never mind. that’s a word to be avoided at all costs.
the skin on the side of my neck is stretched and hot, as if someone
held a light there until i nearly lunged
across the bench and retched as my knees finally caved.
who was that again? oh, yes, it was you. silly of me, for a moment I thought
something had changed.