It’s true I am sometimes afraid of you.
I have this dry grass in my throat.
I have this residue of salt.
I wonder if I could just hang out with you
for a little while – you with your constant talk
about life life life and what it requires.
I see how much you love the word necessary.
It’s possible you love me too,
maybe the way a siren loves an emergency.
I see how you look at me.
It’s true I don’t always enjoy learning.
I have this rasp in my chest.
What is it I need again? Remind me.