me and my barnacle friend,
pitying herself in a high, soft tremor
"i'm tired of being ignored!"
how could i ignore you
when you linger,constantly,
curled tight in the corner of my eye?
a piece of dust that makes me squint,
rub, and redden, drifting in and out
of my vision, poking your head into my landscape.
your gaze is a trap, waiting resentfully
and eagerly for me to look your way.
crusted on the stern, the
prow of my consciousness
like the dull persistent drip
from a roof that has cracked itself.
we are not so full of malice as
you suppose, we merely are trying to
breathe as our bedrooms slowly flood.
