jump child, jump!

you're living a life
i am glad
i don't live.
you shove it in our faces
like a mincemeat pie,
singing
"jealous? jealous?
don't you want this?
oh, how i'm cryptic!
and you're so far behind!"

i'm just as bad as you,
and i know it,

because i have to make mention of this.
you make me think i am lesser
'cause i get nervous
round the kegger
and i want to prove that i am
just as
just as romantic as you!
and i contemplate genius things too!
and God and I sip tea at His table, right,
but i don't know how to cover it with
quippy lines
at just the right time

to solidify my outstanding right withstanding,
standing right next to you.

what kind of flaming hoop is that,
red with mistrust and striped?
the audience jests with my name on their lips,
singing
"jump child, jump!"
but i can't be honest and be a
master game player at the same time.
can you?
i'm no good at smoke and mirrors
at organic american spirits
and mirroring my neighbor.

i'm a selfish little thing
and i just want to be seen.
i cannot deny this.
but i want to see you too
don't you see?
no one really likes mincemeat anyway.