in the cage (get me out of this cage)

be good baby, they tell me, and
a long stupid story about love and loss and how wonderful it is, sometimes, to lose your keys

they don't have my keys, i know
they're only people, and people only have to ask

how was your week, as if weeks are ways
and ways are means and i'm mean to myself
because someone has to be, right? they're not

angry or malcontented
or even terribly joyful
expecting of nothing
that's how i am, day to day

don't know what i am when i say

it's fine
i survived

i lived

i think