I probably think
this next thought
is about me.
*
Then, I'm so present,
I probably think
this world is just
the sum
of all the facts I have—minus
my intentions.
*
Finally, I'm so numbed
by the irony
of presence,
it's hard
to locate such
displaced rage;
from this distance,
it's hardly efficacious
to complain—
it's hardly judicious
to call these aches
mine.
