from my perspective, limited
and blurred, i can muster
this bit of advice: do not
do what i do. do not treat
human company like the sun,
annoyed when it is too much
and desperate for its heat when
it’s away. think of human company
like the moon, always pleasant.
reserve your hatred for insects
and people who were born wealthier than you
and with straighter teeth
and people with talent
and filthy dishes
and your parents
and the senseless logic of vehicles
and the state of Arizona
and cancers that eat the souls of people
who are good.
Treat your hatred like a rich man treats his wife:
drag it through the mud,
spit upon its face,
beat it till it weeps,
fool it into love,
intoxicate it with potential,
fling it like dust in a hurricane and devastate
yourself once the storm has passed and all you
are left with is nothing.
Written at 10:36 at night, in my office, in Agoura Hills CA.