I am the Me-Me Princess;
surrounded as I am by all of me
I hold fast to the idea
that nothing around me is very interesting, except me.
Absorbed as I am with my own thoughts
I contend that the charm of this self-obsession
is more fascinating
than the mere complacency I see everywhere else.
If I cannot espy my Hero Man
then I will have to suffice with me
and perhaps
marry myself
and spare myself
the agonies of love
and the agonies of childbirth;
perhaps skip it all
and go straight to my imaginary divorce
while congratulating myself
on my sagacity.
Did I mention that to me
I am the thing most interesting?
Don't scold me
because you know this might be true ;
tell me who or what is more fascinating--
me or you?
I am choosing myself because I am close at hand
and I can be my own best supplicant
who will admire me, love me, and never betray
Me knowingly.
So I cross-leggedly languish,
do my nails
watch my programs
on my quilted throne
in my bedroom realm
watching the screen
filled up with all the other Me-Me's
who are the only one's
who really understand Me
even if they are not real
Me-Me's;
You see I am the only one who is real.
A real Me-Me Princess, that is.