i.

When will I hold a place on your list?

Names that are worth something
- a few I've never even heard before -
sit like pretty little
teacups
all in a row,
all holding their breath,
all minding their own business,
until something comes along and
ignites their genius.

(And I want a piece of it.)

I want to see my name on your list,
I want to feel like everything
I think is worth something
and I am worth something
and I somewhere behind my eyes, I suppose I know I am, but I'd like the confirmation, and if you'd be so kind as to please put my name down on
that list of yours
I'd be ever-so-grateful,

so sir,
when will I hold a place on your list?

ii.

Your decisive opinion of these
fictional scribbles
is like a
black-and-white
silent
stop-motion
film that I was never asked to expose.

And when I did,
(sir, your mind is like gravy)
I knew that you'd thicken with flour and
and overrun my potatoes, and
I've realized that dinner isn't worth ruining for you,
and besides,
this film is nothing more than a
tally of my faults.

One, two, three.

Tick-tock.

Beep.