"Good Morning" at midnight,
Plodding in the dark to a bathroom so small,
Sit on the toilet, rest your feet on the tub,
Wonder if your hand could recognize
The doorhandle to your childhood home—
Would it be like finding a forgotten shirt
Crammed behind a dresser, only distant now?
Or like meeting an ex in public,
Unsure whether to hug, shake hands, wave, or ignore—
As if all relationships now feel “online,”
Though we once met in person, life
Just twisted, fractured, now it feels unreal.
Flush the urine down, aware that—
in the pipes below, your DNA
mingles with theirs.
We are all so connected.
Yet, even as we touch genetically,
We remain separate, untouchable—
mostly alone.
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