A glass of water beside my bed – right in the spot
where I’m prone to flinging my pillow, directly
beneath my iPhone plugged in to charge like a man
attached to a bungee – unwittingly tethered to death.
I turn to anxiety as a way of warding off bad luck
(as if luck had anything to do with it)
and the worst thing is, it works.
Night after night, catastrophe is avoided
thanks to a nonspecific benevolence
which reduces suffering in idiots. I’m grateful
that this omniscient goodwill sees beyond
the girl too lazy to deal with clutter to someone
absorbed in the task of doing something that matters,
something greater than superficial order.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxThe glass of water
has always been there, and I’ve always
ignored it. ‘Fantasy prone,’ they call it.
But my dreams are always good.
The pillow only falls to the floor
when reality seeps in.