i was an artist once
and i fancied myself the best one that existed
as i scribbled on cardboard and hot glue gunned bottle caps and was so creative
but really
i just wasn't very good
i'm not good at much
there was a time when i thought
that i would make a wonderful wife someday
perhaps not in a kitchen but beside him on a plane,
pinkies linked as arizona reaches for different borders,
"there's only one road and if you're stranded you're fucked"
i think i've missed something here
so what do i do really
with my love, so clumsy and rotund
when he turns away from my kiss and sweats palms up
i fancy myself the worst artist in the world,
for i draw and draw but cannot get the shape of his nose and i am not creative
i'm not very good
i'm not good at much
