My own perfect world.

What happened to the clouds

I watched through the van,

strawberries tumbling up 

my straw on a blanket.

What ever came of 

putting me in a box

instead of on a shelf?

Why do I feel colder now

than in a Ponderosa freezer

when I of all people

despise the heat?

Did I not say that this was

not what I wanted to happen?

Were you listening to me then?

Are you now?

Is your Tom-Tom telling you

to take a different route

to avoid a hazardous zone?

I'm not good.

I get scared.

I panic.

I don't know

much.

Perhaps someday I'll be better-

good enough for you-

for everyone.

Maybe

in my own

perfect world.