Pretty sure I’m not alone in wishing
my brain had a hack reset function like my iPhone;
when it gets too bogged down in painful memories
of my precious kitten drawing his final breaths 
on the blanket spread on the cold metal table 
at the vet as I held my face close to his, 
and dripping wet with conversations playing back
over and over again between the man who used
to tell me he loved me and the girl I was for him, 
and soaked to capacity with excessive tidbits
like the ratio of cups of water it takes
to boil half a box of rotini pasta,
and the detailed recipe for Karen’s customized
iced caramel macchiato at work,
maybe I could just gently place it
in a bowl of rice to dry itself out again,
restore it to the original divine factory settings
before it became steeped in sin and grief.
I bet I’m not the only one who would relish
in a night of thoughtless and dreamless sleep, 
sinking heavily into lavender and vanilla sheets
as their brain sat on the nightstand in that little bowl
to become cleansed and renewed by daybreak.