SELF-DESTRUCTION
Regarding falling asleep
waiting for my group to be called
to enter the tunnel
that would have taken me
to 26D—
nodding off, the plane left
without me
in my neck pillow
like someone in a hospital bed
completely unaware, waiting to be fixed,
indifferent to everything.
And perhaps what makes us miss things
is that once in a while
we want to stop getting what we're paying for,
a small Dostoyevskian mutiny
like buying a salad in a clear plastic box
that tastes old and poisonous
then throwing the whole thing in the trash.
Our lives are a series of
debts and payoffs that feel barely
tolerable. And anyway
whenever I walk across the sky
to go stand in line for the bathroom
I always think, finally,
I am just like a ghost
walking over the world
trying to distract myself
from boredom
and hysteria. It's a kind of
a holy moment
that is filled with anger.
