Good Morning small room with no windows,
folk punk and three birds squawking at me—
I slept on the floor last night
I dreamt of running a potluck without contributions and barely any food
I quit my job, spent all my money on chard and italian cheese
I deleted all my voicemails,
turned the model train landscape in the corner
into a diorama of my own matriarchy.
Good Morning cold wind
Good Morning mapquest directions—
I am pretending not to exist.
Myisha is trying to be a good mammal.