by Bonita Pan

there’s this yappy little shit zu that eats
my orchids sitting
On the window sill, which feels spiteful.
Because his old lady momma scoops a little bit of my sweet honey
suckled soy bean pudding into his bowl every time
he sips

i skip over craters and kids a quarter
to five and still stuck 2 me
in my head going to the flower shop for honey sucked soy
like the body keeping score
when i wonder if that shitty little zu ever feels the same

listening to the same playlist of
will he call me back?
is this due tomorrow?
can i eat expired canned soup?
mom can you pick up?

watching the same movie
starring roles including
eye brow slit who won’t text me back
the chinese restaurant that tastes like their B rating
cheap ink on toilet paper books
too many pills and not enough refills

i’d probably eat my orchids too