When I am sluggish I am not myself When I am sunburned Or lost or sullen or panicking Everything, tired or tipsy, I am nearly not human And bike seats are plague doctor beaks My sleight of hand is sloppy Doing my own stunts I fumble Am faerie for a while Rooting for an unexpected epithet Bated breath and Haze or is it nicsick Or careless, take your pick My thoughts out their cubby holes When I am inaccurate Better to stay quiet And sit as dust on Our black and speckled picnic blanket