Ribbons: A Random Assortment of Poetry

I Hope I Don't

I hope I don't become one of those people

Who's teeth have rotted out of their mouths

And shuffle their partials around as they eat,

Wondering why I didn't take better care of

The ones I had growing up. 

I hope I don't have to become a door-to-door salesman

Having to extend my vocabulary for people

That won't even have the decency to open

The door and say they aren't interested

And stop me from standing at their stoop like a fool.

I hope I don't need the assistance of the government

While just buying a loaf of bread and some milk,

And be forced to use a little blue card at checkout

While the cashier probably judges me for having to

Remember my pin number and not take out my wallet. 

I hope I don't grow any bumps in my brain,

Especially in my brain, and have to either have

People split me open and vacuum them out or

Have them stay in me and slowly destroy me

Headache after headache after headache.