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.