just glide over me its average and dont bother with words or structure your eyes are enough i can tell.

im just as useful as potting soil and perhaps a decorative fern: no distinct attraction no immediate appeal.

im just there really and theres nothing to remember me by so its okay to forget and its okay to acknowledge that

yes, yes i am no different than that one girl with that one possible hairdo that just passed you by.

but you see, you forgot about that already.

- - -


It goes like this:
I am that $5 sweater on clearance,
in the back of a lonely Mervyn's;
a drab cardigan with a
pallid sickly peach color
(so carefully matching,
with the wall that is)
that was out of season
five months ago.