(There's original and there's barbecue–
Of this, I've been made forcibly aware,
my body inaudibly making its moves
in hot backyards of history, hickory.
There was a clod of self all made of wheels,
but now the cruise control's kicked in,
and so the problem, neither famous nor rich,
has yet to see what it is I've done there;
therefore, the small face, a rage to avatar,
my mind-stained mind so painfully misguided
it's like it's been trying to find the cure
for wanting water in all but leap years.)
No matter how seen I am by others,
I'm only seen enough to be smothered.