I like to start my mornings with a strong dose of rejection.
It keeps me grounded.
Then, if I can sit with it for a few hours,
watching rolling brown-yellow hills and still-dead trees turn
into squat office buildings and rows of crowded houses, even better.
It can slosh around in my gut with the morning’s coffee.
Together they can eat away at my stomach lining.
I’ll even let it occupy space in my head for a bit;
it likes to rearrange things up there and it always leaves a bit of a mess,
but it doesn’t stay long.
Before I know it, it’s hanging in a sulfurous cloud above me.
It will dissipate in a slight wind, but it clings to my shoulders as long as it can.
The one place I won’t allow it to go is my heart.
There’s no room for it there, and besides,
[distraction]
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