i am an addict; something hairy, something scary, something crawling from the shower; stay away; parking tickets are gathering on the floor; i'm beginning to embarrass myself; love's a serious drug; reading the new yorker is a chore, i subscribed for the poetry, now i'm 'enthralled' by profiles, really just scanning fiction — i live in new jersey, for christ's sake; for days the mugs remain filthy, dirty on the floor; since childhood i've been fearful about clogging toilets, especially at social gatherings in strangers' bathrooms; i think i'll stay away; caffeine is a serious drug; how often should one wash towels? linen? how many fitted sheets should one own? how many is too many rings? i am an addict; pick up the phone; i must outbox colorful, impermanent stings — now i am considered grown; i am an addict; something scared; something crawling; something begging to be left alone.
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