Look at Me

Look at me,
A walking contradiction,
Once thirteen,
Then fourteen,
Now me.
In years before,
Mom, Dad,
Grandparents, Ancestors,
All the way back,
To the first true god.
Spelled:
G-O-D-D-E-S-S

(Capital letters not needed though,
god,
Both he and she.)

Look at me,
Self-made minority,
School eight ‘til three,
Then after I’m free,
Most days are the same,
Though some are quite lame,
But she,
I call her Thin Mint,
Is all I need,
To smile from day to day.

Look at her,
My girl,
She loves me too—
Doesn’t have to.
You could say,
It’s all one needs.

Pardon me,
For what,
I’m not.
For what I don’t have,
For everything I’ve refused to be.
Why live a life of luxury?
They’d say, “Go climb a tree,”
I’d rather climb a tree.

Look at me,
Waiting for ’08,
Nights in between filled with love and friends,
No Sunday service for me,
Then it’s Monday,
Starts the week,
Wish I’d gotten sleep,
But not really.

Look at me,
They cut down that tree,
The one where I’d sit,
Dreaming.
But look at me.