My insignificance is a sign of my greatness.
Marvel, draw back
As I scurry in my roachlike way
Through these greasy kitchens
With their bloody knives
And their fat-assed cooks
Bent over the steaming pots.
My life is a triumph over the world’s connivances
And blind chance.
I found the poison you left for me
Once I sipped milk out of a saucer left for the cat.
Once I ran across a birthday cake
With its candles already lit.
It was terrifying and I suppose a bit like
What your heaven and hell combined must be.