Lithium

My father calls me, conjuringSome sort of feeling, from cognac,Bad-conscience, and a fully-chargedLithium-ion battery. I hearThe voicemail, may call back,Blaming an old battery—lithiumAges poorly, like us both—it's onlyBeen one year since he's learnedMy leaning, not handlingThis life from hazard well.And I die quickly—I should, but won'tReplace the cell phone, enjoy justifying loneSocialness, low binding vigor,Bring up gaps I share and shift with lithium.He will comprehend, as a mechanic,Churning alternators, fixing power units,Charging he'd punch a homosexual—Anger higher than the boilingPoint, potential traction lowerThan the melting—