I’m on the counter - I’m in the sink like a god damn baby being bathed with my hair cut, chopped short and the light is fluorescent, poorly dispersed throughout his apartment and I think I am focused while I am in fact, not, but my pale legs dangle like cinnamon sticks, tied and double knotted with neon colored string like a makeshift christmas ornament made in Baptist sunday school and my cheeks are rosy, tart fruit still unfit for picking in Eden yet I used them to say silly things like I like you so very much.