I’m just here to make friends
I’m just here to spot the key change
I’m just here to embarrass my new friends
at dive-bar karaoke in the city in which we’re new
and I’m just here to drive, designatedly
I’m just here to provide raucous exhalations of mucus,
here for a fanny pack of Flonase on the first warm day,
for pockets overflowing with tissues, here for shreds of snow
from the washing machine
I’m just here to ask you (my boyfriend) to use a coaster
even on the glass coffee table
because I have never underestimated even what’s temporary
I’m just here for my grandfather’s broken clock on the nightstand
for the watch sunk between the cushions of a couch left out on the curb
and I’m just here for all the time misplaced or burst
I’m just here, which I get (space-time), but which is boring
I’m just here at the club, at the park,
at the museum, at the fast-casual chain,
at the concert, at the restaurant,
at the office, at the supermarket, at the bank,
at the trailhead, at the protest, at the gym,
at the library, at the DMV waiting
for someone/anyone to give me his number
I’m just here with five forms of identification
I’m just here today, gone tomorrow
I’m just here, inexplicably in the mood to refold my t-shirts
I’m just hearing things
I’m just here, back off
I’m just here with a bad haircut and a sharp memory
I’m just here with an embarrassingly clean record
I’m just here to see you (my boyfriend) affect a French accent
and yank croissants from her bra
I’m just here for the free popcorn
I’m just here’s looking at you, kid, but
I’m just here looking at you in a gay way
stuffing popcorn in your cheeks
I’m just here not worrying about my cholesterol again
I’m just here, earlier than all my new friends
despite my earnest efforts to be late
I’m just here, uninvited and a little indignant
I’m just here with a kernel still stuck behind my tooth
I’m just here with indigestion
I’m just here, a hand on your stomach