supplement 

they can force anything into
the shape of a pill. i saw a jar
of cantaloupe pills & another jar of quail eye pills.
in place of the moon, drinking
a great big glass of milk. i feel sick 
to my stomach about the sci-fi future.
where is the beautiful bomb?
where are my forks? when are you going
to turn & ask me, "should we start
considering a life on mars."
we're driving & i ask you if we should
learn how to fly. you think i mean airplanes
but i mean wings. we should learn
some more skills for survival. in the morning
i take a supplement for the sun &
another supplement for grief. 
the grief piles one on top of the next 
& i want to keep feeling but i feel like
a parrot eating saltines. crumbs fall
like snow. i just want to stay alive
& then i am weeping over a video
of a tarantula trying to sing. how do you 
prevail through your own smallness?
i do not know. sometimes i live
whole weeks inside a pill. i'm someone else's 
100% daily value of degeneration.
take me to where the acorns go
to talk about god. i want to know what 
they believe in that spurs some of them,
still, & despite everything, to decide
to become trees. i am most often less brave. 
i swallow it down with water. 
smooth & sterile. they will try to tell you
breathing comes naturally.