when you’re born, an invitation to your own party,
a miniature life offered every single day,
an earth that’s trying to do it right,
people you want who don’t want you,
people who want you you’re not interested in,
maps that tell you things you don’t listen to,
personal garbage that’s not carted away,
lights and flush toilets you take for granted,
old friends who are not and acquaintances who are,
too many red lights and not enough green ones,
things you find hilarious no one else even smiles about,
relatives created by some fiend,
and three hundred thousand pizzas.

Donald Everett Axinn
From The Latest Illusion