Monday, May 16, 2011

What does it say...

What does it say about me
that I have a secret longing to enter every single
sweepstakes that I see
and in my heart believe it's meant for me to
win
almost feeling the heavy ginormous check
tipping and slipping out of balance while
I smile and the cameraman points and clicks?

What does it say about me
that I love those little word things
that you sometimes have to enter to
legitimize who you are
or why you are visiting a site
that I am so easily made to feel
brilliant as I read the smudgy fonts
and so deftly type in the letters that
somehow make sense of Seuss-like
juxtaposition?

What does it say about me
that I woke my sleeping teen
the other night because
I absolutley had to have
an ice cold coca-cola and
chips and french onion dip
but was afraid to drive to Redi-Go
to get it by myself
the hour being so late
and the Redi-Go crowd so
typically creepy?

What does it say about me
that I know what I need to do
have every logical reason and ability to do
that one big or million little things
and yet I inevitably find
another load of laundry
or a (potential) threating invasive weed
in my flower bed that MUST COME OUT
before I step into the need
that I would for some reason rather
ignore
even though I typically like to be
needed?

What does it say
that I apparently
care about what IT
says or who THEY
are even though
I've never seen IT
or met THEY
and at the end of the day
(which, really, where is
that--the end of the day?)
the only one faced with
any question or any
decision
is just
me?