Long gone are the days
where you’re blue in the face.
Skipped off like a stone,
I hope you learn to float.
A foregone conclusion,
I would go drown in the well again.
Now, that whole plan’s been shot down.
Breaking off the grip my
open mouth had over my bones.
I sunk right through the cushions of your
fold-out sofa bed on 96th street.
You were throwing me a line.
I learned to take a dive.
I miss the taste, but I’m over it.
Stuck in this place, but I’m over it.
I want you to find out, but I don’t know how.