I only swim where my belly grazes the bottom;
I only fly on the lowest air currents I can reach.
I never stretch for anything, never look at
anything unpleasant. I leave those
logic puzzles to the philosophers; who cares
about how the world works, and life, or all
those questions that you can’t turn off?
It all hurts my head; that’s why I stay
here, above it all (but just barely), bobbing
on ginger ale bubbles and celebrity gossip,
both of which I get piped in daily, so I
don’t even have to leave my house,
the place where I am always the prettiest,
the brightest and the best. I always wear
an attitude T-shirt, even when there’s
no one here to read it, so I go into
my mirrored closet, shut the door, talk
to myself about myself, for as long as
it takes to convince myself that I’m
OK, that it’s OK, it’s all OK now.