two o'clock

i am drinking a beer
my first beer of the night
at two A.M.
A.M.
AM
I AM.
YOU ARE.
YOU ARE NOT.
YOU ARE NOT YET.
it's Pabst.
that means that i will hate the way my mouth tastes
in right about now.
oh, now.
it's so easy to think about the past/future
and so hard to deal with the
right now
right now.

earlier,
there was this little white,
hard crumb
stuck on/in the carpet
you were lying on
i could see it
between strands of my own hair
and i wondered what it was made of,
if it would crumble under applied pressure
if it would break between thumb and forefinger,
its parts scattering like the ducks you screamed away.

or would it stay whole,
like a
half-full glass of milk
on the stainless-steel counter in your kitchen
that you forgot to drink
after your poured it?