Decomposable

I went to my best friend’s mother’s funeral.

I guess I’ve reached that age.

DJ threw his cash app card on top

of the coffin as it descended

into the ground.

I hate desk jobs.

I hate customer service jobs.

I love jobs that don’t pay well.

Peach fuzz, frontal sex.

I thank God for them both.

I’ve been sitting on the left side of my bed

for so long that I decided to move

to the far right corner today,

the song of my childhood.

I don’t know the language they speak there,

but I’m going to the Comedy Club

in East Sacramento anyway.

I cleaned my car. I cleaned my room.

I can still smell remnants of you

masking the bleach and dust.

I am drinking tea

and my skin is burning

with the sensation that I might not

leave this place forever.