sometimes i think of a man
with an alarm clock in his pocket,
hurrying to catch another day
he overslept. his phone was left
silent on the kitchen table
next to the half-eaten sandwich
and a mug of half-finished coffee.
sometimes i think of a man
trying to live up to expectations
of answering some half-baked
questions about his personal
pronouns. the grammar book
he used was written at a time
when it was still halfway simple.
hidden pilcrow 