then why not have cake and gin for dinner, licking
the plate clean of frosting and then tossing
it in the trash, no reason to spend silly time
on dishes. why not smoke the whole pack, each
one down to the nubby filter, flicking them into
the gutter and not watching to make sure no
leaves ember. why not press your body up against
a stranger’s, a man who looks like a prom king
but who validates some old teenage part of yourself.
why not open the car door while going seventy,
charge the t-bone, say no again and again to going
into work, to polite smalltalk dinners, to any invitation
that isn’t two cans of spray paint and a dusky overpass.
why not shed your clothes, jump in the pond, do six
somersaults underwater, just as you did as a child.
the pressure makes your nose bleed, just as your mother
warned you. why not arise naked and bloody and wet
just as the day you were born.