Instead I thought of how when Donald Trump’s lips
purse together, he looks like an angry baby
and I thought “angry baby” sounds funny aloud,
like anger is only for adults.
Iwgtm and I thought of that one friend
who doesn’t like my Facebook posts anymore.
Iwgtm and I remembered we are splitting up.
Iwgtm and I remembered the look on the piano
teacher’s face when she found out I was Jewish.
Iwgtm and I thought of all the people who
don’t like my Facebook posts anymore.
Iwgtm and I wanted to be loud.
Iwgtm and I didn’t want the kids to hear.
Iwgtm and I remembered that my mother-in-law
wanted to chat about the fact that we are splitting up.
Iwgtm and I flashed back to the Discovery Network’s
photo of a spider who seemed to grow tiny hands.
Iwgtm and then I remembered that I am not a confessional poet.
Iwgtm and I remembered that my father reads every poem
I mention because he wants to be “supportive.”
Iwgtm and I remembered that I have a lot of packing to do.
Iwgtm and it’s an hour later than when I first woke up.
Iwgtm and I thought the cat is really, really old now.
Iwgtm and I thought we never masturbated together
and I thought it would have been fun.
Iwgtm and I thought we never did so many
things that I wanted to do.