I hate being interesting
to another person.
It is like annoying flies
attempting to feast
at my open wound.
I feel like a tray
in a buffet lineup,
now garnered as
someone’s favorite dish.
I experience myself as taken
by scoops in heaps.
I’ve being packaged
and savored for
future memorable revelry.
I am becoming
a line of products
and a purchase station in one!
I am a feedbag
assigned to
a cognitive nurturance routine.
I sense the clamps
of dignified attention.
If there are any
bleacher seats in the mindset
then the space becomes
an audience haven.
Where did all that
understanding as distancing
come from
and where did all
the commingling intimacy go?
I’ve been gummed and labeled
to an appropriated stature.
I have been assigned
to Q&A responses.
I now give lip service
with studied impact.
I am becoming symbolic
right before my eyes,
as a brand in the making!
What happened here
and why do we do that
to each other?
I wanted it about you
through us
and not from me!
Who of you
did you send to hear me?
I am on retainer
to be remembered!
I didn’t know them as you,
as your beat reporter!
I didn’t mean to be gleaned,
as an interesting party.
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