i’m sorry i’m not a cartoon show.
i’m sorry i’m not a greatest hits CD.
i’m sorry i’m not a dubstep remix of the national anthem.
i’m sorry i’m not a virtual striptease.
i’m sorry i’m not a plastic book about vampires.
i’m sorry i’m not a scripted reality TV show.
i’m sorry i’m not a live bluegrass performance.
i’m sorry i’m not a wet t-shirt contest.
i’m sorry i’m not a commercial for tampons.
i’m sorry i’m not a stand-up comedy routine or a dueling
piano bar or a beat boxer or a heartwarming
bible about chicken soup or a legal document or a closing
statement or a viral youtube video or a first-person-shooter
game or a broadway musical or a circus with clowns and
juggling bears and tamed tigers and the mustachioed
but i am not sorry that i am a poem.
i am not sorry i am a penguin
looking for my true love penguin
to give her
the viewing arenas are saturated with doe-eyed girls
lights go down
the bright white glitter skin of james dean emasculated
ooh the trembling knees of housewives in the crowd
lucky bland beautiful boring girl finds herself lost
in the bermuda love triangle with a bat and a dog
team? i am on no one’s team
burn the theaters down!
stab the actors with stakes! shoot em with silver bullets!
the vampires will seduce you with their lust
this way, darling
one small step at a time
and in the warmth of their cold embrace
they will drain your blood
the greatest fictional romance of my generation is between a teenaged girl and a vampire
what more proof do you need
that we are stuck
puberty and fantasy?