my mom taught me… something is that the end of this poem? it is not my mom taught me a lot of things i played the piano and tried to move my body while doing it to show that i had emotions i also showed my mom my middle finger while going to the computer room ‘don't do that,' she said later in life i walked into a terrible playground other people were horrified, from a distance i walked through the fire and came out the other side it hurt i thought i should scream but i was polite and kept walking, into another fire all my life i was mostly very polite, and nice, pretty much, why change now? i moved into a blue field, an amazing blue field—magical, calm, anesthetic; beautiful—then into a third fire hamsters, i noticed, were enjoying the mayhem i'd never seen them like that i was amused my eyeballs were melting down my face, though, and that made me feel strange