twitter

i'm worried about you, she says.
watching
me as I scramble an egg
into a bowl.
why?
I say, dropping a pad
of irish butter into
the black
frying pan.
why are you worried about
me?
because you don't worry
enough.
you don't even follow twitter.
did you even see
what he tweeted today?
nope, what?
you stand here making eggs
in your socks
while
the world is crumbling
out side.
I look out the window.
is today trash day, by the way?