for my own good

I will just try to think of you as scared off, now, at this point,

or at least wary, or wise to.

It's the parking brake I can throw when I'm not able to slow myself rolling down this hill.

It's the necessary "SIDEWALK CLOSED" sign that's changed my walking route to work for the past month now.

It's the highest shelf of my food cupboard that I now cannot reach without another person and a stepladder, to deter me from baking in boredom with the last of my sugar.

The unusually attentive security guard,

Money in the red with the overdraft fees,

My nana's half-a-throat.

    (I'll just sing the same Bob Dylan and Yusuf Islam songs with it,

    during the still fog hours of the night.)

I'll always think you're cool, don't worry.

Thank you for the potatoes. They really were delicious.