I want to stuff myself with potato chips
be mounted on the wall in a “natural” pose
and look down on visitors allowed in the
study.
I want to paint myself with gold
hide in the trophey cabinet
and tell strangers about that time you got third in track.
I want to sit in your cabinet with my hands held forth
waiting for when you fill them with whatever you drink.
I want to have a clear purpose,
and I ain’t holding out for the good jobs.
