At night, I walk in a light summer suit,
barefoot,
down the suburban street;
pulling out a pair of large plastic-wrapped packages
from an apartment stairwell;
dragging them home,
I realize they contain a monumental
sound system
and a tightly rolled birthday bouquet;
understand that I’ve stolen expensive gifts meant for someone,
and try to drag the oversized packages
back along the street,
to the right stairwell, still barefoot,
my body full of anxiety

How did I become like this?