Prior Version

The toaster lever won't stay down.

You’re swearing at the crumbs again,

shaking the metal over the sink

while I look at this slip of glossy paper.

It was hiding under the contact paper

in the nightstand I bought for twenty bucks.

You have a jagged haircut here,

hacked off with a pair of kitchen shears.

The t-shirt is for a hardware store

that went out of business in the nineties.

You look like you're waiting for a train

that you already know is late.

I don't know this version of you.

This person hasn't learned

how to stay in a room.