Consumed

I don't know why I am consumed

By the same arguments

Over and over again.

Perhaps they bring me hot comfort.

I don't know why I am consumed

By hypothetical perfection.

It seems like an futile

and time-consuming direction.

I don't know why I am consumed

By taking things out of their times and places

and putting them in another.

Perhaps it's the scientific feeling of ultimate control.

I don't know why I am consumed

With the memory, with the old me.

He was smaller, particularly in the belly.

And the mind.