I wake to a dog barking, but I swear
it’s little gasps of breath from a woman
mid coitus. The sound gets shaped;
my tilt out of the dream world and into
reality brings about some senses: a headache,
some unsightly sights, like the hole in my sheets.
Right by my head is a bass neck. “fuck this,”
and I roll out of bed and into a bathing suit,
some tennis shoes, and an old gray hoodie,
and I run.
Who did I text last night? What did that white
German Shepherd dream about? Was there a third thing?
New years have started hungrier and meaner,
but there is a soft apathy in this one that makes me want
You know I’ll spend the day keeping it down, swallowing.