It’s the short sounds of beady alarm clocks and
the dazzling artificial desklamp lights that distract me.
The hairy arms and legs and feet that cover my soul-like physicality and
the cartridges of colored ink lying despairingly on the floor next
to the printer they were attending to, desperately, as they lost attention.
The azure-coated love stickers gleaming distantly by the sulking fireplace and
the watermarks on the metallic black iPhone I carry proudly like an arm augmentation,
fixed in place by tenement cars and over-entitled college graduates on sidewalks.
A number of distractions in the world, so we never
see anything that’s actually real.