Tortilla Chip

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?