COMEDY Poem: Bored, by April Faircloth

God, I’m bored right now.
Why can’t I be wealthy;
like a celebrity, but not famous.
Just enough money to do stupid things.
Stupid money.

I’d fly to France for a baguette.
Nothing crazy,
just stupid.
Of course, I’d never do it,
but I’d like the option.

Instead, I have no options.
I could return the kid’s soccer cleats
and go out to dinner,
but then I’d feel awful later,
when she’s the only one
whose mom ate her cleat money.

Responsibility is so boring.
I wish a pterodactyl would land in the yard.
Just long enough for the ring camera
to snap a few pics,
for everyone to call me liar.
But I would know.
And that would be enough.

At least I’m thinking up options.
Impossible ones,
but nonetheless.