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Numerically inane

at six in the morning I’m under the water fall like 
a melon in rain 
in mid-summer

I let the warm water try, inane, to wake me
but there’s only eight hours of nothing 
waiting like a knot ahead of the sun

and I dress in a pleasing manner
I hope
I hope to satisfy all of them 
that sit in drab confines of tech-revolutionary evolution 

I want to kill darwin 
I want to kill my way into immortality 

but my silent ego sits idle 
and my self-control is too controlling 

so I light a low tar cigarette 
and not a thought of cancer enters my mind 

two cups of coffee 
and I’m at first break 

three sticks of aspartame gum 
and I’m at lunch 
with a low tar cigarette between my filthy lips 

four hours to go 
and back to the coffee, no cream, no sugar, just pure 
and unsolicited, violent revulsion against the body

five o’clock I punch out 
punch my way across the freeway 
and punch plastic keys on my keyboard

six beers and I forget my printing press and my social engaging chatter 
I can be real here, in my haven, the headless body, the walls without eyes

seven days a week I go like this 
like a hedge row uncut, growing just for the sake of growing 

but at

eight in morning on a Wednesday 
I stop the leech sucking with a lighter burn 
and call the center-fold skyscraper

at nine 
I’m alseep in the bathtub 
the water like hot oil on a mechanics hand 
and I sleep until

ten,

at eleven 
I’m neurotic and wishing I were picking avocados 
or nectarines 

and there’s no way to end this poem 
math is infinitesimal
but I 
am 
not.

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