By Michael 
Date: 27 May 2000

Meditation on Appreciation

I was writing down some thoughts one day
thinking, word-linking,
wondering about how to say
what was on my mind
at the time
when a yuppie walks in.
One of those bubble gum girls for whom fashion-error is a sin.
She started rambling off words...very inconsistent,
and, i thought, very cerebrially non-existent.
Rhyming words here and there
trying, i think, to tell the starting quarterback she really does care.
It made me refer back
to fading memories, but it’s hard to keep track
of them
and all i could remember
was that cold night in December
you, your smile and i
the way i could see those stars in your eyes.
Why are you the only 
girl i know
who’s not afraid to let her real self show
and present it to me
in such intricately composed prose and verse
that, to me, you glowed
even though you said it was your worst.
oh great, our little Soda-pop princess 
is talking about shopping, boy bands, and, like, a totally new pink dress.
I’d better get outta here
before barbie chatters about how a broken nail 
once made her shed a tear.
Hey, write me again soon
shout out, spout out, 
some wishes for the moon
but be careful your dictation because
this is anything but an invitation 
for once again harming
the feelings of second-prince-twice-removed-charming.
Um, loli-pop girl is now starin my way
and i don’t want to be another guy for another day.
Although that seems strangely comparable
to me and you, 
but it wasn’t so terrible a parable to tell.
i was happy, and you
could at least you could write
about something deeper than dances, high school romances, and fizz from cherry sprite.
This is for real now,
I’ve really gotta go
turns out everyone caught on that barbie’s stuff was just for show
so goodbye,
and hey, tell mr. Joe blow i said hi
if he’s there