I was brought up
on the sinister soundwaves
of MTV.

A generation
brought to you
by sniffing glue.

Dorito flow,
my hands are
red with envy.

I can’t
stomach you.
I’m full.

And when
I am full
of you, empty.

Halloween,
I was
a goblin.

But not green,
not cool
like that.

I was mixed
martial artist
with shamrock hat.

You called my
cauliflower ears
endearing

and then
you blew out
your back.

And I was
just earthling,
no habitat.

I am still
rat-a-tat
gangster.

I am still
a shocker,
a stranger.

I am
a prankster
wearing Wranglers

singing
the Star
Spangled Banner.

I am
a midnight showing,
of Dirty Dancing.

I am
your
private dancer.

I am
the missed spelling
of Tori Spelling.

I am
the beef stew,
corned beef and toast.

I sing
a song
off key,

grab
my junk,
take a knee.

I am ugly,
And its
okay.

In gravity
I float
so beautifully.

Even if
it’s only me
who sees me shine.

I glow
like
neon.

I am
a status
you can’t be on.

 

Jason Wright is the editor and founder of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly. His third book, Train of Thought 2: Almost Home is available now at the Oddball Book Store.