Obviously in Control

Fell off
a barstool.

It was
unsteady.

Took a break
from my sprint
home
to sit upon
the town’s
burnt down
post office
ashes.

Just enjoying the
cool night air.

Broke a white
wooden fence.

It was basically
in pieces before
I even touched it.

Annihilated my
mother’s couch
with a little
top-shelf tequila
and crown.

No excuses here.

Cried a bit.

I get emotional,
I’m a woman—
let it go.

Kicked a
coworker
in the balls

Allegedly.

Woke up
Reaching
Goal weight.

Fuck yeah.

Bruised,

like a damn peach.

Does it help
that I sipped
a concoction named
after the great
Hemingway?

Fuck if I know.