From a Letter to Reba

Okay
so I'm dying of stress
and lack of cash
and lack of meaningful ass,

while getting too much asshole
around my house,
too much dust and too many piles of stuff
and wanted and unwanted crap,

clutter
and frustration
and creeping desperation,

but at least I have
cool, articulate,
kind-hearted friends
like you

I think of that
and exhale
and smile to myself
and my stomach stops twirling so fast

and I feel glad
Still glad
Still okay
and still so glad