Puking Up Fluoride When I Know I Haven’t Eaten Any
I swipe my tongue between my gums and teeth
stepping through a glass door into
sun-lit jostles between waves and pieces of air.
I think of a joke where two men walk into
a bar that I will never walk into
because those men and that bar
are not a part of our world.
Last night in my dream they were
begging you to get a lobotomy;
the dream ended
when you stopped feeling tormented
and you agreed.
More than anything,
I would like to be convinced—
Eric Wallgren lives in Chicago, IL. Find him online here.