No longer on the table,
no longer exterior to you —
it’s no longer here.

Bad decisions, but
not the least nor
the best of its kind

to get around the city,
nor a convenient means
to anyone’s best friend

nor to you. It isn’t
and doesn’t sing to itself.
It isn’t made of glass.

I was initially excited to come to this
office chair, because my friend was all like,
“OMG, it’s sooooo comfortable, and you can
adjust it up and down.” But OK, first of all,
it was a mauve-and-black “Saved by the Bell”
kind of print. Just, gross. Also, I tried to get
someone to help me with the up-and-down
feature, but there didn’t seem to be
anyone working there. So I had to find it
myself, kind of under the seat, and then
it’s not like it was some kind of thrill ride.
Whatever. That was fine. It was all fine —
it swiveled and rolled like you’d expect —
it’s just that, for the time it took me
to get there, I was hoping for
something more like Six Flags
or like a lounge chair by the pool.
This was not that. So I stayed
a few hours, and then I left.

White 10 in a red swimsuit, lines everywhere of coke
you look like a Coke can sun rays bouncing off your
curves all around if I hated you then, I hate you more
now in your white swimsuit perfect 10, Bo Derek, the sun
rises and sets on you these are not elephant days
these are not days to write home about
these are not days when I feel flesh-colored
and fabulous and sit by a pool eating Twizzlers
and drinking Tab and not caring about cancer
or anything else that I can’t see and don’t have
to care about yet, not while we all still live in this
apartment complex Shady Arms, where you are
the godforsaken queen someday you’ll get wrinkles,
someday you’ll get moles, someday I’ll look down
at you in your box and still be jealous of you
because just like any other day you will
still be the finest one of all.