Dull Sex, Like Watering Plants

At the end of the day in which I thought too much,
when my views were inconsistent
and a song, the same song,
repeated in my head for 10 hours.
On that day, between boredom and
scratching at the dandruff on my head
I thought about the last time
I watered my plants.
2 days, a month, 5 months?
Depending on the depth of the bustline
of my inefficient seduction
I'll be casual about insecurity,
or demanding about technique.
I breathe in this air of unwashed dishes,
slipping into another x-boyfriend what-if,
waiting for feelings other than guilt.
I try to wedge my hand between us--
leverage against the weight.
Followed by your half-romantic release
while I'm still trying to get comfortable.