Every day I wake up and put a suit on, myself, some kind of suit, adorned with all my particulars. Lisa, my almost friend gets some job, some extra job, and I have no job. I think, selfish Lisa. Lisa you should have passed that job prospect onto me. And Lisa, you didn’t. I can tell Lisa to fuck off or throw something in her face and storm out. I can tell Lisa good luck. And whatever I do will inevitably look exactly like something I would do. “Oh that sounds like something Mae would do.” Me and my particular way. The voice and the gestures, the period and the patterns. And listen to all of the things that I think I could be, like little raindrops. And on I think that worse and better, the other day drunk I thought, she is particularly burdensome, some days.