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I relax so intensely, my skin snaps.

This badgering rationality is enough

to steam my eyelids. I practice

knuckle-cracking, chain smoking,

coffee drinking, pill-popping ways

to take it easy. I idle so high, I can’t come

to a full stop. I could never stay

between the lines. I’m the root of all evil,

yet I pump the gas. I never intended

to evolve into this jaw-clenching, nail biting,

heart breaking, ulcer-burning son-of-a-bitch.

I’m totally percolated

and the pressure’s gonna kill me

if you’re lucky.

I bake the bread of woe and lick

my fingers clean but I pay the tip,

don’t I? Don’t I? I’m a back stabbing, nit-picking,

road-raging bully boy and I dare you,

I double-dog-dare you, to love me enough

before I explode

or very simply fall to pieces.

 

Ó 1998 Maryann Hazen

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