I am a Dante in a world of Shannen Hamiltons
And though I'm not supposed to be here today
I'm trying to see a sailboat, blinded by chocolate pretzels
And I'm a tracer
I trace the past to make myself a future prophet
I am an ungifted muse
And the angels and demons play hockey with my heart on the roof
While the stench of shoe polish lingers like a dense fog
And I search
I search for a stolen monkey that's neither mine or hers
What to do? Where to go?
When did my Alyssa become a Caitlin Bree?
The topless psychic didn't tell me this would happen
What do you think Silent Bob?
And I thought "callow" was a good thing...