In 2017 I fell in love with an Aquarius in San Francisco. I was giving a poetry reading there and we spent 36 hours together. Found the perfect motorcycle jacket. Went to Twin Peaks. Pissed and looked out over the city. I imagined I could give up New York for true love. Live in a house. Keep plants alive. Finally be a real person. But it turns out love is expensive. And so is moving when you do the math really. I can’t do math. I got a D in statistics in college. This Aquarius looked like someone who could make you breakfast. Someone who could remember how you take your coffee and get you off whenever you wanted. Most mornings I get coffee from around the corner. I don’t eat breakfast. I use my phone calculator to do tip at the end of the night and some of those nights I say to myself: Alex, you could have been a real person. Lived in a greener city. Had an ocean. Done laundry instead of drop off. But what if I just love the trash. What if I don’t want to eat and fuck and play house for eternity. I only passed statistics because I copied off the guy next to me. I remember jerking off in the bathroom halfway through the test because it was so boring. All the dudes in that lecture hall were going to law school. Bad haircuts. Bad fashion. No vision. I walked out of that hell and it was April. I was hungover. I needed a coffee and I needed real breakfast. But I also knew that I had my whole fucking life and I didn’t really need anything. Is it fucked up to say I still feel the same way?