I AM -2-11-09

I hope to be nails on a chalkboard
moving through your senses, mind,
your nerves.
Yet not connected to you at all
outside of the sound waves in your cochlea.
I'm a ray. No . . . a line.
A polygon. I have multiple dimensions.
I'm a point.
I am Pi. 3.14 and other junk.
Unnecessarily long. Someone memorizes me,
though I don't know why.
I'm a pink heart bracelet on a little girl.
I don't mean anything, but she'll wear me
until I break.
I am neglected diamonds
in a teenager's jewelry box.
I was traded in for vintage mood rings and
plastic hope.
I forgot my cauldron.
I should be chicken noodle soup.
Filling people with warmth
and noodley goodness;
The number one pick you up when
the butterflies die.
I'm boring.