Yes, I am totes going to turn this assignment in when it's do you think you could give me just like three more days?

I was in an art museum once.  
I saw a black and white picture hanging on the wall.
It was of a potato.  Nothing else.  Just a potato.
I was angry at first. I had just meandered through an exhibit of miniature houses that must have taken hundreds of hours to complete and a crazy amount of attention to detail.
This person took a picture of a potato.
I thought of what my hipster friends would say.
“It’s isn’t just a potato.  It’s so much more.  It’s art. It probably stands for famine or the Depression or a childhood friend...”
No.  It is a picture of a potato.  
I thought I would jump on the bandwagon.
So here is my poem:
Potato.

Oh, my dear.
The time we’ve spent together has been the greatest.
I've loved hanging out with you, etc.
But with this new found technology I think we need to talk.
Here’s the deal.  There is just not enough time in the day.
Lost is my number one priority right now, as is Weeds, Parks and Rec, and Breaking Bad.
You try to communicate with me at the worst possible times.
My PS3 controller turned off during 30 Rock and now I have to get all uncomfortable and turn it back on.
Can’t you see I’m busy and that I simply cannot answer my phone?
And your solution… Nay.  Your “solution” of me simply reading the plots on Wikipedia has cut me to the core  and you have crossed the line.
Yes, it would save time.  It would also be the worst thing ever.
It’s clear that we are not compatible.
It’s not you, it’s Netflix.

We lay awake sometimes, staring at the ceiling.
But not really at the ceiling.  Our minds are running
Thinking of how we can change the world tomorrow.
We'll make posters get signatures and do that one thing everyday.
Starting tomorrow.
The adrenaline pumps and makes it hard to sleep.
The possibilities are literally endless.
Oh, the things we can do tomorrow.
Then we wake up,
And everything seems so much lamer than it did the night before.