Monday, May 16, 2005

After All: a found poem

With apologies to Google and "The Next Big Thing."

After all, I had cut corners on my minor psych assignment.
After all, I had already done so many bad things.

After all, I had begged for this, right?
After all, I have more than most people do.

After all, I was trying to get away from electric guitars.
After all, I had no interest in ever appearing on television.

After all, I hadn’t been on a real interview in almost 20 years.
After all, I was very excited about Disney, as so many are.
After all, I don't work at McDonald's, now do I?
After all, I help pay their salaries.

After all, I had read every Hardy Boys book.
After all, I had warned them that I'd be writing about my experiences.
After all, I'd done exactly what all the "how-to" books tell the aspiring writer to do.
After all, I can't just pick up an atlas off my shelf and check to see what Pluto must look like.

After all, I wasn't the one constantly being poked and prodded.
After all, I birthed my own children with no medical intervention.
After all, I don't have any psychiatric disorder severe enough to warrant any medication.
After all, I'm sure some people do forget to breathe momentarily.

After all, I was only 36.
After all, I'm only six.
After all, I wasn't like these moms in the magazines I read.
After all, I am Iranian.

After all, I wanted him to know I was somebody.
After all, I get hate mail that makes all sorts of assumptions about who I am.

After all, I only surround myself with the best and brightest.
After all, I have her genes, don't I?

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