i’m doing that thing now
which all writers must do
at some point, sit and stare
at a blank screen and think
about how to make things
more meaningful than
they really are. so
there’s no metaphor here,
just a list.
today i folded my laundry
all at once, which means
i must be doing well.
my neighbor’s puppy
makes a habit of leaving
scratches all over my legs,
of trying to eat her own shit.
today i woke up at 9:30
and i winged my eyes, which means
i must be doing well.
yes i am listening to an album
where a woman is drowning
on the cover, but remember, 
there’s no metaphor here,
only a list. sometimes
i make lists for hours
of schools so far away,
their ancient buildings
and impossible acceptance
rates, the smiling faces
of their students who,
if i squint, could almost
look like me. and sometimes
i find pictures of the cities
they’re in, the parks nearby
with their dreaming musicians
all the subway lines stretching
their little spider legs
for miles, the bookshops
opening their teeth, the black
staircases crawling from
one balcony to another and
the people who curl their legs
around the rungs, their cigarette
smoke closing into the night,
people who never need
to look very hard for meaning,
people who, if i squint, could
almost look like me.