I pluck a bug from the lip of a fish

I pluck a bug from the lip of a fish.
What type of bug? I don’t care.
I squish and flush it.
That was uneventful.
Fish are gross, anyway.

I fiddle with the window curtains,
play peek-a-boo with the sun,
cut off clouds in my vision.
I squint. Ouch. I quit that game
and go to the TV.

The first thing that comes on
is a commercial for a bed.
It has extra-squishy foam,
and hydraulics. The bed helps you
sleep, the TV says. Duh.

But a bed’s not what I want.
I want a robotic shoulder from
the future- a hulking metallic shoulder,
with knives, and lasers, and bullets
coming out of it like a tornado.
People will see me and think
I’m the Apocalypse.