For once, I’ve been taken out
And opened on a desk –
I’m excited, this kind of attention
Is reserved for a test,
And suddenly it seems as if
I’m covered in writing,
The anxiety is evident –
The pen’s nib is biting;
These aren’t doodles either,
These are words that make sense,
Seems like Property Law is catching up
And making things tense,
But I don’t know what’s worse –
Gathering dust, or being worn,
I can’t find middle ground –
It’s my persistent mourn;
I suppose I should be grateful –
You’re putting me to use,
You’ve spent so much on me
Your wallet blew a fuse,
It told me so over dinner
About how it’s so used it’s frayed
And I remember thinking
If only I could be that away
But now I that it’s happening,
I’m not so sure –
I guess it’s true – be careful
What you wish for.
