teenage symphony

in the morning
when the sun pulls shadows
to the roof of my bedroom
I drink coffee

in the evening
which never comes quick enough
as the moon sucks shadows
back into its swollen glands
I drink beer

the irony is that
too much of either
result in a headache
at some point in the morning

and these tensions
which knot themselves up and swell
in the architecture connecting
my brain to my spine
and pulse like a thermal bullfrog
seem like such a staple of adulthood

and adulthood is useless
when everything seems teenage

if you don’t believe me
set down your glasses tonight
and walk out into the driveway
the atmosphere is wallpapered
with photonegatives of bad skin
white head stars

it’s things like this
that keep me tossing
plastic cups into orbit
on the way to the sink

and finding out how many
pretzels the dog will eat
before refusing them

and in case you’re curious
seventy four
the same number
of bites the pale barking
universe usually has of us
before tiring and tossing us off