I am always hungry,
but when I eat, even if it is just a little bit,
I feel uncomfortably full,
and my belly distends.
There is this headache, too,
and sometimes it is so shrill
that I become dizzy and exhausted,
but most of the time it is dull and distant,
The wart on my foot defies all treatment,
and so does this seemingly permanent zit on my chin.
I am so thirsty,
and chilly water is nearly like dessert,
except then I have to pee,
which I find to be an annoyingly endless game of action and consequence.
I have popcorn husks stuck in my teeth
from a bowl of popcorn,
which was unsatisfying to eat
due to its healthful lack of enough butter.
The alarm clock's not gentle,
but then neither are dreams of loss, losing, and departure.
The warm weather is late, summer is short,
and winter is a bitter exercise in remembering to breathe.
The cirrus clouds were ugly today,
like old Halloween cobwebs with no will.
Not even the birds would go near them,
or maybe it was the unpredictable gusts of wind
which blew dust into my eyes that kept them out of the sky.
If only I could love my whining cat more
and afford a maid
and enjoy food and drink without fullness or evacuation
and never have winter or blistering August
and forget dentists
and ban household detritus
and get rid of cheap perfumes that make my eyes swell
and cure cancer
and wander around wherever I like
and get to ride trains for free
and institute three-day weekends
and lie around in a park in the shade of a tree
with a book and a pink lemonade
and watch the baby geese roll like dumplings
as their parents scuttle them away across the lawn,
then it would be that Tomorrow I keep hearing so much about.