Right as arithmetic
you roll out of bed—
another day, a blank
page, a clean slate
(except with your
particular head on)—
at least it feels that way
for a few seconds,
until that strange terrifying
alien computer brain
kicks back online again
and begins recalculating
frantically, everything
that has ever happened
in your life until now—
adding up how much
of it was all your fault,
then subtracting off
all the stuff you couldn't
do anything about
if you had tried. Luckily
by that time, the bed
you lie down in
has been made
and it would only
lengthen this sequence
to crawl back inside.
