instructions on how to pack & leave a four-bedroom apartment

the moon is setting
sour & green & vibrating. it's shaking
the whole painting. a brush is buzzing
with its cicada wings & trying
to paint my pupils & i keep explaining
i already have pupils or else i wouldn't
be able to see at all. 
im going to need to to recover
after putting the whole planet
in my mouth. i am buying
jaw breakers for survival purposes.
we should all practie unhinging 
our jaws or evolution is going
to forget us. i want a beautiful
fancy pigeon who teach me 
how to be less useful. my father
is always arriving too early
& i am always arriving just 
a little bit after him. i'm hosting
a family reunion in a basement
i don't have. don't worry, i don't have
much family so they should fit just fine
or i could put them all
in the microwave. it's more spacious
than you might think. no cooking, i'll just 
put the thing on unthaw & watch everyone
turn into frozen porkchops.
what are we having for dinner? 
i ask myself as i pour a glass
of lemon juice. citrus is good
for survival. i hear they're treating
the virus with it now. my tongue 
is acidic. a bunch of cherry tomatoes 
slice themselves in halves.
i rub salt in the wound. i peel off
the bandaides left on the walls.
there in a single thumb tack
holding the picture frame to my heart.
there will be blood on the floor
i cannot help it. there will be
a sad story in the newspaper 
after all of this is over only
we will not be the ones reading it.
when no one texts me back 
i start to wonder if there were ever
anyone on the other end. i start
to believe my phone is the only one 
talking to me. a great algorithm 
standing where everyone else used to.
i am okay with this reality. 
it is less embarassing to be needy 
of a machine. everyone clings 
to gigibites. it is just part of growing up.
the moon in downloading 
into my glass of water. five more minutes
to load. whose family will i swim in 
tomorrow when everything finally yellow
& ripe? i cannot tell you the future
that is only to be read 
in the dead patchs of grass from the back lot 
where only ghost cars are parked.
i have a ghost car now.