By Sara Adams
I have all of the typical Western diseases,
the kind that middle aged guys with boats wear.
I’m a liar, I admit it.
I’m champagne flowing like rivers,
I’m Boo gaps in between the noise.
I’m “Cool,” on a hot air balloon.
I’m not expected to respond to people who are talking to me.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a found poem constructed from responses to an anonymous online survey I created and posted on Craigslist. The questions on the survey were:
- What would you do if you went to a museum and found a portrait of yourself on the wall?
- What are the worst type of sunglasses?
- What’s the best thing about being underwater?
- If you could put any post-it on anything, what would it say and what would you put it on?
- What’s your most pressing worry at this very moment?
Sara Adams is a Montessori teacher in Portland, Oregon. She has poetry and fiction in Shampoo Poetry, and/or, tNY Press's Electronic Encyclopedia of Experimental Literature, and DIAGRAM (forthcoming). She also co-wrote a New Translation of Twilight, available at www.fredwardbound.com.