for lines anymore. Once I
clung to them, walking the tight
rope. Man was I a dope! Spooling
piece of thread.  Till I strangled myself
as it wrapped around my head.

I don't fall
for bodies anymore. Buffed
six-packs and lean. They're not
real. They're all machines! No flab
or cellulite. And all their clothes fit
tight. I've parted with men looking like
they walked off the red carpet. Their egos
fill the room like smoky fumes.

I don't fall
for degrees anymore. Hanging on the wall
with emblems in gold. If I must carry
a dictionary as we speak bury me
in a week!

I don't fall
for money anymore. Sports cars
driving at dizzying speeds. Custom-made
suits made of silky tweed. Houses so large
I must carry a map, or I'm lost as I
proceed.

I don't fall
for chemistry, buckling knees,
or floating butterflies in my
stomach. They only make me
plummet. Walking around like a zombie
I can't see straight ahead of me.

I rise
now I see with both my eyes!