Paper People
You know what’s funny-
People are funny.
And not in the Steve Harvey kind of way.
See, the question “why”
Has stumped
Philosophers
Astronomers
Writers
Readers
Thinkers Thinkers Thinkers
Ponderers
Inventors
For eons.
Heck, it’s even stumped me.
But I think I can now safely conclude that humanity
Never needed an answer in the first place.
I’d like people.
I’d like paper people.
They’d be purple paper people.
Maybe pop-up purple paper people.
Proper pop-up purple paper people to be sure.
Perfect round the edges, colored within the lines
These proper pop-up purple paper people would rule the world.
We could build a paper metropolis.
A little paper you and a little paper me
Among millions billions trillions of paper songs and paper screams.
We’d sit in our paper homes
In front of the paper tv
Droned out with our aimless muse
(you know with an occasional few stupidly nonchalant comments thrown in)
Of how sick truly is reality:
They can walk it off- just a disability
Rape no problem- that was just her dignity
Oh poor thing- she’s destined to poverty
Yeah- there are a lot of little bitty ity’s here
The only thing we lack is sincerity.
A little paper you and a little paper me
Among millions billions trillions of paper songs and paper screams.
You know,
Pretending is fun.
It’s easy, that too.
Especially when you have to pretend
That the girl off the curb
Isn’t begging for food.
That those kids in the deep end
Aren’t dying all the way through
That when little Suzie hasn’t come home for 2 weeks
She’s not missing- just deja vu.
That those tormented whispers
Are just the wind, not a who.
That the lingering sense of despair
Is nothing- not least you.
I’d like people.
I’d like paper people.
People who are afraid to breathe
So they hold their breaths as long as possible.
People who’re afraid to see
So they squeeze their eyes shut
People who’re afraid to fall
So they hold onto nothing in the first place.
This is what we call a paper world
You can erase and revise and edit
And redo and rewind and tearout and demine
And ask for help from strangers on reddit
Nothing is real or permanent or wrong
Sure this is a paper poem
by a paper girl
from a paper town
in a paper world full of paper problems
But the story of these
proper pop-up purple paper people
Is not fiction- it’s a memory.
And maybe then if we all try to remember
We can answer the million dollar question
“Why?”