I.

I am xenophobic. Don’t touch me stranger.

Don’t mess with me broccoli.

That’s right, stay back.

I am plastic bag. Pliant, cut-able, usable.

I fly. That’s right, on windy days. I

Soar.

I am sexual. I touch you here.

What? Don’t touch you there? You

Know you want me to. Fuck.

I am introvert. I scribble in my

Diary. Perfect, calm. No one’s here.

I rip. I burn the page, just in case.

I am religious. Hold that Bible.

Read it. Read it carefully,

Like you mean it. Fold my hands.

I am gentleman. Hold the lady’s

Hand. Open the door. You’re

Welcome.

I am studious. Bright sharp

Slick foxy. You like my

Pedantry? Good, I like it too.

I am fixable. Here, pass me the

Wrench. Turn my cogs the right

Way. You don’t believe me? You shouldn’t.

II.

I admire new. I just don’t like

Strange. Creeping things. Walking

In the dark. Red eyes.

Plastic bags. What are they good for,

You ask? Putting in granola wrappers,

Eraser shavings, masturbation tissues.

I like the part in the movie

Where the guy finally wins

The girl’s heart. Sexy.

You know what I’m talking

About. Oh, don’t blush! I’m sorry.

I didn’t mean it that way.

I chant. Meditate on good

News. News that strengthens my brittle

Bones. Unstable thoughts, my bad.

I greatly appreciate it.

Please don’t flatter me. Me, kind?

Well, I like the thought of that.

Invention means progress.

Everyday I grow bigger brains,

A better mind. A brighter bulb.

Reform? Me. Why the fuck point

At me? I listened. I tried to look

Interested. No. Well, I guess I’m no good.


Daniel Moon
Age 16, Grade 11
Bard High School Early College
Gold Key