After Failure

11/21/90

17,000 connect dots

In one 1991

calendar, I wonder

If this is it, is

this how it all

ends, smothered?

like living in

post-post apocalypse

I can’t read—

some illiterate, I don’t

need to, I can taste.

I don’t need television,

I can figure it out

for myself, I’ve got

toothpaste teeth and eyes,

don’t tell me my mama

taught me how to laugh

when I was five.