If I

It's as if I could trace
The creases left by my body
In the bed sheets, with a pen,
To perfectly map every town
In America in which I will sleep.

It's as if I could set
Fire to the carpet, and in
The flames I could see ev-
ery Foot that had ever stepped there.

It's as if a dead man in
California could somehow
Control every word that I
Will ever write.

It's as if every swine that
Is slayed to feed me(and
Every cow) devotes their final
Hours to planning MY demise.

It's as if breaking this
Old wineglass over
My head could somehow
Change my name, my eye color,
My shoe size, and my faith.