I
don't really care
to argue the merits
of zen philosophy
or any theory with you
because frankly
I
can't be arsed to give a damn.

I
don't care for the greater good
at this point
I
am looking out for
number one.

I
want to drown my sorrows in the bathtub gin
of 1920s speakeasies
and dance the tango on their aged wooden floors
while Hemingway and Millay stare down approvingly.
I
want to fill my nose with powders
and my lungs with smoke
and my veins with all the potent poisons
that test my youthful immortality.

I
will argue with you
while high as a kite,
sing like a bird in a tree
and fall from the highest limb
onto a mattress of apathy
So when
I
become a trophy wife
I'll be so well behaved.