The roar of the appliances is loud

the computer's too

I sit by the window

and write a poem

what will it say?

it will twist in your hand

and pop on your shirt

like a ketchup bottle

or a vinegar packet for fries

it is a junky poem

quickly jolted down

quickly consumed

and if your tears fall

and add salt to it

i swear it will bring me to my knees

for another ocean breeze

with you