She held a fistful of Prozac and waved a monkey tail
while crossing the street.
Haven’t you ever had the urge
to spin until naked,
making up anthems about your secret super-hero life?
It’s not only about invisibility.
Tapping away at a happiness button
is meaningless if you’re stuck on orange
but the barista may give you a funny nickname
if you believe fervently in free will.
She felt the pulse of the city
was like a drowning roller coaster
(but she never buckled up).
I offered up myself with a Boboli pizza
and twenty years later we bloomed
to make this poem.
The Word Rummager 
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