Inspired by Abby Jimenez.

I’m sick of the cruel people I went to college with,

sick of the bad job market,

sick of the pigeons,

sick of the chicken bones and the bitch-ass owner of the laundromat around the corner

Screw the eighth-graders on their dirt bikes,

and the lying traitors who wasted my time,

and the mini-mart associates who sold me expired milk,

and the terrible little thing beating in my chest

even if this place knows all my perversions,

my shoe size,

how I like my tea,

what time of day I send Mom to voicemail

how I walked fast to catch the subway,

how I kicked rocks down the sidewalk to keep from crying on the way,

how I only locked the deadbolt on the top,

before I left home

dying to be anywhere but here is all I’ve ever known,

wanting something like the cows, and the ponies, and the Pennsylvania Turnpike

something like the fields and the ranch houses

and the power lines that make them look a little like the Eiffel Tower if you squint