senses piqued like full bloom, I swig
coffee like bourgeois swill, strive
for “artful” or “pensive” to mask
the ill fit. some duplicitous insiding yearns
for anonymity and unforgettable
at once, having cake and forking
it into the yawning mouth. but then,
do I juxtapose? the question is not
whether you do or do not adhere,
but rather whether you are able to right
yourself from upside down.
LitSpit 