The time it takes to find a banana
in my backpack is half
a mayfly’s lifetime a fact
I’m too aware of as I eat it
in my car I pretended
to fellate one years ago for a boy
with a beard and a mirror behind him
while I wait here for the blinding aura
of my migraine to abate I do it
in the rearview: lick the peel
push the stem into my throat like a walrus
I saw suck his own cock in a cinderblock igloo
at a zoo I am tired of these lights
flicking on inside my veins of my bile’s
acid taste but the constellated beams
in my reflection look like flashbulbs
of a paparazzo watching me write
something beautiful on my banana
with my tongue