They're Made Out Of

You ask me out comparison shopping,

But I refuse to turn my life

Into ten thousand tiny little transactions

Trading time for money.

You plan to put on a play.

You gave me a singing part,

Knowing I've never been afraid of the crowd,

But you were trying to write a serious drama,

and I only have the same three half-steps

In three different octaves.

You tried to call me back in from school,

Pleading that “home is where the heart is,”

But I have this papery, oniony academic thing

Where other people keep their hearts.

I only sleep where you live.

It's been observed that humanity is made out of meat.

I am made out of monkey wrenches.