I’ve traded wind chills for sunburns.
Snow days for bomb threats, what have I done?
You’re fascinating, but you don’t fascinate me.
You’re captivating, but you don’t captivate me.
I’m an oiled moth without her superpower.
This New Age? I made it out of silkworms.
Our era of ivory towers—
mark its words, in books, with knives;
that’s not dangerous, that’s multitasking.
You want to hear a secret? I flipped a coin.