It’s going to get harder to stay this way.
It’s going to get harder to explain why I’m this way.
It’s going to get harder to say I’m fine with it.

I’m not fine.
I say this unparenthetically.
If I were onstage, I’d say it differently.
I’d have it marked – on paper – just as I said it.
I’d even probably stand up and say it as I stood up.

As though standing is the problem.
I can walk and talk – just not feeling up to the latter.

I like sitting and talking, but I like sitting
and doing nothing.

I like it in the way I have time to wait for something
but just for a few minutes and for something that is beyond my control
in a pleasant way.

Like falling right to sleep after taking a pill
Or getting a buzz from a spliff.
Or a very well done martini.
Or an orgasm.

Don’t talk to me about sex.

Let’s just get through this day.
We’ll have dinner and some small talk and
maybe hug tonight.

But I’m scared of tomorrow
I’m bored by tomorrow.

I want to edit my responses
so they laugh in Minnetonka.

No one in hell knows that there’s a man holding an empty glass on a stage in Hennepin County
looking for the Host.

Someday this will all be funny to me.