Didn't you come for trouble, and find it? / Didn't you wave to the twelve apostles? / To say goodbye or maybe ask which way, / to not a dozen but lucky thirteen, / to the baker's gift of wanting too much? / Not what you asked for? Twelve blades and a razor? / Not what you wanted? The smooth touch, rough? / (I know you're not sorry we've lost our way—that we're children still walking upstream.) / Haven't you and I seen the holiday? / Aren't the guesses free from their bottles? / Isn't it June, the year of Quezacotl? / Isn't our best suit birthday and hazmat?