on the forty-second floor
the comptroller
sits with
a blowtorch
melting windows &
invitations to
the office party
on his desk
a memo from the boss:
my life is
a single burning
ice cube
dropped into punch
splashes my little yard of space-time
ashes
over my asbestos body
I have lungs like
desert islands
on one of them
a guy in an inner tube
praying to be saved
on the other
another guy in an inner tube
praying to the first
don’t ask
which is which
on the soundtrack
I am singing
here
let me light
your birthday candles
I have matches
oh look!
here’s my life
their little cover says,
“YOU TOO CAN GO TO COLLEGE”
but of course I can’t
because
I just went
I was an ant farm
a pickle trainer
a philosophy of clowning auditor
my résumé
a maraschino cherry that
fits on my nose
is covered by ants
breathe
the instructors say
sit in class and
breathe
smoke fills the room
I am here
I think
I will have a life
close to the floor