I am five,
and my mother tells me
you do what you must
to sleep at night.

I am twenty-two
they make pills for that.

There are a thousand reasons
I am the way I am
and none
that seem substantial
against your iron-clad alibi
for the reasons
you are the way you are.

I’ve had it worse,
I’ve had it better
comparing apples to oranges
and deciding to eat neither
is exhausting.