So many years on this planet.

So many years on this planet.

So many months on this planet.
So many weeks on this planet.
So many days on this planet.
I feel rather existential.


I thought: “I will try to write a poem, for once.”
I realized how much that statement
Made no sense.
So now,
I am writing a poem.

But all I could think,
As I urinated
Into a porcelain vase,
That leads to another space,
Was that I have lived
So many years on this planet.
So many months on this planet.
So many weeks on this planet.
So many days on this planet.
So many hours on this planet.
So many minutes on this planet.
So many seconds on this planet.
AND
I have only lived
Twenty-one of the first “thing.”