This poem was written in 2012.
They told me I can be anything. Fed my ears with clay. Be the soul-dipped morning, the unbounded star, they’d say. I said I wanted to be the color orange. They told me nothing lasts. So I seek a spare balloon for when the old one bursts. They told me life is short. So I eat my blueberries without washing them first. Each day I’m satisfied with my great feats of turning every challenge to burlesque, until I close my eyes and go to sleep and dream the gaping hole that eats my chest. And then they'd ask, for I might have missed it, “When was the last time you really existed?”