expired ID from home—a sign
to use my passport to get in bars
where I won’t drink;
to identify with the place I live
and jump off the diving board;
to go to the store and purchase
a new device to be instinctual
a shower should do the trick
of washing the past couple days off—
the serotonin bliss of out-of-town visitors
stuck faces and stomach clutching
reshaping my mind cause I said I’m supposed to
and I will…
cold water only
ears perked up to daily sayings
that I could have heard from a rabbi or priest
but instead hear from my extremities
“they decided to be happy”
“it’s a personal choice”
“they took charge of their personality”
“…and you can do it, too.”
an apple is an oyster
as opposed to an unready clam
that opens when you want or need
it to be ready
—but remember that the price of talk
is selling at an all time low
dirt cheap, root cheap—a falling stock
your stomach is telling you to consider veganism
your hands are telling you to lift your spirits
and keep them there
your feet are telling you to stop shuffling
but move with a purpose
and the innate is telling you to trust
a gut you’ve been shaving off
to tell others or be told
are windshield raindrops:
they rise and fall at the speed of their storm;
to tell yourself and leave your hand up like
Sanaa Lathan at USC
the BEEF in the bones
the drowned out tones
around you