My first name is a random set of numbers and letters
and other alphanumerics that changes hourly forever
My last name, a thousand vowels fading down a sinkhole to a susurrus,
couldn't just be John Doe or Bingo
My address, a made-up language written out in living glyphs lifted
from demonic literature and religious text
Telephone uncovered by purveyors of the ouija, then checked against the CBGB women's room graffiti
My social a sudoku
My age is obscure
My in-case-of-emergency is in the daisies chasing birds
Employed by trillionaires with perfect teeth and pores
and people who open doors for the people who open doors