I have always thought that the greatest purpose of satire is to make strange what is taken for granted, and I believe that the greatest means of attacking standards within a narrative is with the use of an outsider as a protagonist. In every "commentary narrative" piece I have written, I have created a protagonist who is, literally, an alien. It's been done before, surely (off the top of my head, I can think of Radiohead's "Subterranean Homesick Alien" as a piece with a nearly identical purpose to this one), but I cannot help myself; there is simply no better way to stir one's imagination and curiosity than to examine American society through the eyes of an alien. This poem, "I," is written from the perspective of an alien--the green, antenna kind--named X, who stumbles upon some earthly children quarreling in a park. The word "I" is foreign to him; he knows not what to make of the children's constant and conflicting usage of the word (verb? noun? adjective?). There is no singular, universal idea pertaining to the word; "I" is a complex word after all. After picturing the confusion and curiosity of an alien overhearing, "This is mine," "No, this is mine," without knowing the significance of "mine," I decided to write this poem, if you can call it a poem.