Oh You

I didn't think I'd poured myself
like a reluctant jelly
over your driveway, but perhaps I'm mistaken

For wherever I am, it isn't here.

I think I think I think and then I
don't think at all, and the waxy
thought-leftovers bubble back in my throat
like an angry beer.

What did you see in me?
I wanted to ask, as you kissed my
forehead, goodnight.

All that surfaced was a cigarette-tainted squeak.

I am I am I am.