Emily Siegenthaler

There is hardly anything left to invest
in. Eating breakfast so the vitamins don't
make the morning feel too weird.

The self-defense class you joined
after the bug crawling across your cheek
turned out to be a man walking
on the street below your window.

Dragging your feet comically to explain
to no one in particular.

Imagining yourself alone
when you imagine your enemy.

An enemy who likes to tell jokes and
likes all of your jokes.

Exchanging pleasantries before confessing
that your town is the town that took
the kids out back on New Year's Eve
and shot them, execution style.

It sounds like they are counting down
but they are just shouting out.


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