This is one of the first sonnets I wrote. In it I adopt the persona of a young woman, possibly an art student, telling a young man to get real. I was reminded of this poem when Richard Wells mentioned Andy Warhol’s ‘fifteen minutes of fame’ in his response to being interviewed by Beth Patterson for Blog-tag: you’re it.
Stop bugging me with your adoration,
disrespecting my friends to build me up
way, way above my real estimation,
making of me something that I’m not.
Now anyone can have fifteen minutes of fame:
what Andy Warhol said has turned out to be true;
like a contestant in a reality show
your dubious idol will fade away too.
I simply get along as best I’m able.
I’ve a cool tattoo and my make-up’s proud,
I’ve a stud through my tongue; another at my navel.
I just want to be one of the crowd.
So listen up bonehead. If you don’t want to lose me
cut the hyperbole, just go on and choose me.
Read more poems by getting aboard the Monday Poetry Train.