What is even the point
of finishing this history assignment?
What is the point
of studying for hours and hours
For a chance to pass the Spanish test?
All lives are like chips.
Simple corn tortilla chips
which the big being in the sky
holds in its hand.
Crunch! There is a life
Gone. It’s fractured tortilla chip
pieces tumbling from the big being’s hand
onto the lives of its tortilla chip girlfriend
and tortilla chip mom and dad
Grandparents, uncles, and cousins.
What is even the point
of finishing this meat burger,
fries, and root beer?
If my tortilla chips self
is just going to waste away
in pieces in the Earth.
I feel grateful to be alive.
But not so grateful
that at my young age
I still fear being crushed.
I didn’t ask to be made.
I didn’t send my creator a vision
of a fresh tortilla chip.
Crisp and lightly salted
wanting to be born.
I didn’t exist before
August 9, 2000.
But now that I do,
what is even the point?