My first name is a random set of numbers and letters and other alphanumerics that changes hourly forever

My last name, a thousand vowels fading down a sinkhole to a sussurus, couldn’t just be John Doe or Bingo

My address, a made up language written out in living glyphs, lifted from demonic literature and religious text

Telephone uncovered by purveyors of the Ouija, then checked against the CBGB women’s room graffiti

My social, a sudoku

My age is obscure

My ‘in-case-of-emergency’ is in the daisies chasing birds

Employed by trillionaires with perfect teeth and pores, and people who open doors for the people who open doors

My medical history is a course at SUNY Buffalo

Charlatan psychiatry and troubleshooting undertow

Nervous in the service still,

I’m burger meat and purple pills

“Here, thank you. We’ll call your name.”

Sure you will

• Aesop Rock, “Shrunk”