i’m calling him now. fuck, voicemail.

i wanted to brag about how much water i drank today.

i’m gonna flush it out this morning. i’m completely

topping it off tonight.

to what do my moods most strongly adhere?

my body? your body? only one lover, my god! it's you and me. you understand me? i’m telling it to him like he doesn’t already know. he and his biggest fan of a girlfriend always have all of the numbers in the charts down and the names of the researchers straight. i’m dim because i thought i had thought of it first. but obviously for an erudite, and finished,

and goal-fulfillment driven, and fucking sublimely good-looking duo as they are…

voicemail, i’m sorry. apologize to him for me.

if he wants to drink tonight, well, you know.