I would lose
my lefty outlaw status.

I would never look up
the etymology of sinister
just to smirk + feign outrage again.

I would write more poems
with cleaner boundaries.

I would not interrupt
myself so much.
Others—who knows?

I would bang on doors
+ ceilings with equal force.

I would not run
any faster or farther,
would not further my daydreams.

I would cut out hearts
less crooked.

I would not remember
my dreams or learn how to recognize
lucid ones any better.

I would smear less,
become more legible.

I would not drink wine
from a glass I hold with my right
hand just to see.

I would even out
the angles + curse less.

I would not know myself
more than I do now. No, I would not
know myself at all.