Most of All
By Brandon Lipkowski
Posted on
I eat the same lunch
and sit in the same seats,
I smile at strangers,
or I keep my head down.
I am not a good man,
I am not bad.
I am filling a space;
a ticket number in
the deli line,
the middle child,
a third wheel,
a well-timed joke
in a class of strangers.
I sleep alone,
cry alone,
drink water most of
the time,
set my clocks three
minutes fast so that
I am never late.
I don’t like my first name,
I don’t like god,
I am afraid of needles
going through my
pale skin.
I have four cavities,
two shelves of books,
one shelf of movies.
I believe in art and in
the sound of my own
voice.
And I love you,
most of all.