Absurdist,
blocked,
given life,
in you, by the way,
and I’m the only one who sees it:

they all vie for your unfailing attention
and you’re the subject of all their desires
and you indulge them, knowingly or not,
and I laugh at you,
for you are their puppet
while at the same time
they are yours

for, you
you and your double X’s,
your hormones, your pheromones,
your tight but not-so-tight curls
that the puppets like to pretend are springs
as they stretch out the coils and then let them go,
watching them bounce up and down,
along with your size and your appearance,
all of these,
ogled over
by your onlookers
who love you,
flirt with you,
manipulate you as much as they can or know how,
and you, maybe you like it,
but I can still find it funny

I can still laugh from across the room