A Dubious Superpower
by Matt Taylor
I was built in a factory (I must have been);
stuffed to the brim with copper wires
conducting the electricity needed to power
my legs, my arms, my neck.
Then filled with insulation to keep
my wires safe.
I keep looking for my on/off switch
(I know it’s there),
I think it’s somewhere under the skin
of my heel. Either way,
I’ll find it soon.
Filled with pills from an early age,
my confidence has always been provided
by the small boost
Adderall thinks I can handle.
The pharmaceutical age existed,
as a cocktail, in my belly.
Or, maybe, as snakes in my belly,
snakes that became obsessed with the idea
that a single bite would,
more than likely,
kill me. Yet
they never bit,
I could never stop, though.
I’d feel ridiculous with my head in an oven.
Even now I feel ridiculous.
A cord on a used parachute. A watch
you wear in your sleep.
I should apologize,
but that wouldn’t be honest.