LOU RASMUS

Drinking coffee,
reading a Steinbeck classic,
watching the rain puddle
in the grass
and listening to a
Colter Wall ballad,
I don’t feel like myself
this morning.
Not hungover,
not high,
not even horny enough
to masturbate.
Just quiet and tired
and waiting to wake up.
Maybe it would be better
if I didn’t.

DEAD RED FISH