I have a daydream where the world has ended
and I work in a bar.
you’d think I’d pick something else
but no, I wear a black uniform with too much cleavage,
the bar is lit up
by pink and yellow neon lights.
In my daydream the handsome monster asks me
‘what did you do, before the world ended?’ and I say nothing.
There is a herd of ghosts in my computer that tells me I’m not alone,
it’s a collection of poetry and friendly voices,
‘if you were here’ dirty messages at 1 am.
My three day old baked potato stares at me in judgement,
and I know, I know the difference between hands
across from me on a table, and my hands dancing
a lonely tango on a keyboard.
I have re arranged this bedroom three times lately and not once
did it fill a space
in me the size of a city. Or a person.
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