i'm okay
If I have to pee,
and Chicken jumps on my back
while I'm looking under the bed for his shoe,
I'm okay.
If Buster bleats for me from the other room
maaaaaa maaaaa
maaaaaa maaaaa
look at meeeeee
while my head's under the bed
and Chicken's on my back
wiggling around and still not wearing
his goddamned socks,
and I have to yell back from under the bed
"Just a minute Buster!"
and then I have to yell it four more times
so I sound hysterical by the time he hears me
through three walls, Chicken's arms around my neck,
and the fact that I'm yelling
into the space between the floor and the bottom of a mattress,
I'm okay.
And if Ryan turned off the A/C before he left for work this morning
and a bead of sweat is tickling its way
like a wet spider
down my rib cage,
I'm okay.
And if Chicken falls off my back onto the bed frame
and whines out in pain but not injury,
and if Buster hears Chicken fall
and starts to cry preemptively
to ensure nobody is louder than he,
and if I still have to pee,
I'm okay.
But if one more thing happens...