Member Poem

i. 
what am i, what am i?
tea, tea, for that would i die -- 
cup after cup after cup of vanilla chai.
the romance of caffeine, 
the lull of forced time awake;
the feeling of falling in the night,
when your body starts with a quake.

what am i, what am i?
books, books, for them would i die.
o, to curl in my bed, to have a good cry.
here to mask the frustration of a boring life,
arthur, his knights, and a good, long, strife. 

what am i, what am i?
loneliness, loneliness, for her would id ie.
i've always been told i'm far too shy.
sensitive as a mouse, picky as a bird--
who cares to speak if their words won't be heard?

ii. 
what am i, what am i?
to that, i answer, many a thing.
i am the battered scribe next to the shining king.
i am dreaming of all the fish in monterey bay.
i am thinking tiredly about the end of may.
i am hiding my face in the picture you took.
i am a crude laugh and a shrill, "made you look!"
i am my favorite mug that always burns my hand.
i am the scratched CD of my favorite band.
i am turning the corner in tears & hitting my head.
i am thinking of ways i could wind up dead. 

iii.
what am i, what am i?
why, i'll tell you.
my life is made of blue and gray.
i am no she, he, or they. 
i am made of those moments in the wood,
when your words will undoubtedly be misunderstood.
i am her gifts, her endearing eyelashes,
the roll of his shoulders, his tales of car crashes,
their quick wit, their excited chatter,
the cringe i cringe when asked, "what's the matter?"

iv. 
what am i, what am i?
some could argue i don't know.
too young, too brash, and definitely too slow.
but some could i argue that i do
because i know that i am not a 'who'. 
i try to take moments and grab them ; 
grip them tight & close to my chest. 
i pile the memories up and sit on them
like my own beautiful bird's nest. 
i feel only frustration, gratitude, and nothing at all
i open my mouth to speak with unconscious gall.

v. 
who am i, who am i?
you tell me, please do.
chances are i know less than you.
you have a name, a life, some cares;
you are eager to pay society's fares. 

what of people who are what?