hubris

my panacea:
I feel your bones slipping out of my skin
in the most ordinary moments
in morning traffic in lectures getting
groceries, and suddenly— your tibia!
humerus vertebra rib& your jawline
reflected in the rearview mirror, and me
almost crashing! Burning myself with my
cigarette clamped between my teeth, trying
to push ourselves back into place, trying
to rearrange the jumble of bones so that
they fit in the grocery bags, so
we won’t look like weird deep sea fish or aliens
who have lost their way, here by accident,
flopping& wandering around, which is honestly
how I feel—a lot of the time anyway
but you give me more direction,
swim that way, at least