I buy my own groceries,
fix my own meals, wash
my dirty dishes: what more
could a woman want?
She might want a stiff erection,
that’s what: something I last had
back at the turn of the century.
She might want a man to give her a baby:
something I did in 1980.
House shakes; hill burns;
sea rises up to my doorstep.
I am unconcerned. Amazon
delivers overnight—ain’t it grand?
(Here’s what money buys: DVDs.
Unsweetened soda. Condoms
I no longer use.) When
synapses fail to connect,
no pain is felt. When
friends die left and right,
it previews coming attractions.
Outside, frost has formed.
Snow begins to fall.
Surfing conditions
are excellent.
