The Criminal Personality

I am getting over you, and that makes me miss you: I hate these boxes;
let’s saw the dog in half. OK let’s not—let’s become minimalists:

I don’t believe the concrete talk
I keep hearing so confidently spoken from everyone in this bougie cafe: I have a chip

on my shoulder—a black dog—so I can see why you changed your tune
and why I stopped singing; because the lyrics

of love songs are clearly reductive and binary. And stupid! And sick!

And as Yochelson and Samenow stated, if you care
about the dog so much,

you’re probably a sociopath. I must learn to like these cafes.