If I read
another poem
about empathy,
I’m going to
rip up a flower
and spit on a tree
flick off a squirrel
and yell at birdies
and tell them
they’re losers
And then tell a mirror
it’s sexy and brilliant
and talented
and hilarious
and tasteful
and desired
and great with its hands
And then I’m gonna
enlist in the army
but not really
because I’m a pussy
and therefore fear water
so, scratch the marines
and as I don’t like birdies
dido the air force
And then I’m gonna
go to the food court
and steal free samples
And then I’m gonna
go on Yelp and
underrate reviews
and then laugh about it