JEALOUS

i go through my day jealous. jealous of time, jealous of your looks, your body, your thoughts, your flawless elbows.  i am jealous of everyone and everything. i am jealous of buildings, beloved structures where hundreds of people have lived and died, and jealous of babies, when they cry and when they’re silent. i am jealous of adjectives, verbs i never employ, and words that i haven’t yet heard. i am jealous of your artlessness, of the way your shoes are worn just so, the way your hair falls effortlessly, the way your clothes fit so perfectly. i am jealous of dogs licking other people’s faces. i am jealous, jealous of the way the wind blows around corners and seems to speak, but never to me. i am jealous that no two snowflakes are exactly alike, and i am jealous when the sun touches other people’s faces. but ultimately, i am jealous because the world isn’t completely and helplessly jealous of me--my artlessness, my body, my thoughts, my achievements, my perfect elbows.

i speak it as a purgative jealousjealousjealous,

i speak it as a mantra jealousjealousjealous,

i weave it into a spell jealousjealousjealous,

but it ensnares only me

it is only me

and i am jealous of it.