The Pretender
Jane Yeh
NBC, 1996–2000 You can’t help it if the saucepan of your envy sometimes bubbles over Or if your life is like a pleather coat—sweaty and unfragrant. It’s not your job to reveal the existence of a sinister institution Or to be jarring and unplaceable, like a Belgian accent. When was the fruit roll-up of your dreams first chomped on? You know you weren’t like the other children. Like a moustache, your bad luck is always with you. Like pasta, it sticks together and sits in your tummy. Playing Chinese checkers against a Pomeranian With ‘special abilities’, or evading an armed goon Are everyday activities for you. Think of the voice on an old recording. A long bob on a pretty girl. Keep wheeling your regrets around like an oxygen tank, Get to California and win a prize. The long road of your resentments Ends here, Mr Nice Guy. You can hop like a turkey Into the petulant sunset, square and ungainly. Good times.
