The buttons on my blender told me
Crush. Grind. Pulverize.
I stuck my mind in and pressed all three.

I left the lid off, can you imagine
the kitchen ceiling?
My clothes splattered with essays

Essays splattered with me
My roommates gave me the short straw
and told me to suck it up.

Remember in elementary when health teachers
stuck coffee straws in your lips and said
“that’s what it’s like to be a smoker”?

Then you went to recess for the black lungs
and mourned the loss of their monkey bar callouses.
You hoped they could make it up the stairs.

Then you went to college and wished you were still
the swinging champion of your grade school
but every time you test it, voltage shakes your ankles

When you die they’re gonna put you on a big ole sling shot
They’re gonna pull you back, aim
and shoot your body into quicksand

where you will sink and drown. It will be so shitty
that the lightning buildup in your legs will flip the switch to your brain
You’ll open your eyes (you dummy!) and kick your feet

like a dolphin you’ll shoot straight up from the surface.
Summer air will suck the sand from your nostrils like sugar,
and a classmate will ask for an extra pencil.

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