On Sunday I left the milk out. By accident, I mean.
I just forgot to put it away
after I finished watching TV.
But when I picked it up on Monday it was still cold,
Like I had just taken it out of the fridge.
Something has been breaking down around here, man,
And I can’t put my finger on it except to say
I have powers.
The holes in my shirts have been fixing themselves overnight.
My cereal turned into gasoline. I think I can control mosquitoes.
Today is Thursday, and the milk is on the counter,
Still sweating it out, still just, you know, just chilling.
So I pick it up and drink it, straight from the carton.
It just feels right. And the taste is fresh and rich
And so, so cold,
with a flavor like I’ll never get another sunburn,
like maybe I could turn one of my hands invisible,
and like I could learn to fly
for a few minutes at a times, at least.