The Beatles pump vibrations into my body
as I lay with my face smooshed into the velvety
turquoise of some pillow from Kohl's.
Purely offkey, I scream.
I have no rhythm, I have no melodic instinct.
The vibrations are on full force as the song switches to
You Don't Know Me and I think it's so mismatched from my own heartbeat
that my blood-pumps may be restarted
and I'll have a heart attack
and I'll never be able to respond
to that damn text message
that I still haven't gotten back.