FILE_ID.DIZ – Robert Beveridge

How much more is there

when you open up the closet

and realize, just an instant

too late, you’ve been drafted

into a high school student’s

comedy film? You know you

don’t remember buying those 

squash rackets, but the camembert

rings a bell. It sounds just

next to your eardrum. On the upside,

that stops you from being able

to discern one jar from another

as every kind of jam you’ve ever

heard of, and seventeen you haven’t,

escape, spread themselves across

your bedroom floor. You sigh,

claw your way out. You’ve had better days.