by M.L. Woldman, Late Capitalism Correspondent

the first time i became a celebrity
i thought about kurt cobain
and how he missed going into
a thrift store with $20
not knowing what he might get
and how the thrill was gone
when he knew he could buy the whole store.
so i bought some $3000 sunglasses
so people couldn’t see the disappointment
in my stare.

the second time i became a celebrity
it was for no reason at all.
i had a catchphrase and everybody knew me
as a sort of ironic joke.
i surrounded myself with nonpersons
who constantly told me i’d made it.
and every time i was told
i’d made it
new schisms bore deep into
my sense of making it
until i was a husk
filled with blow and riches.

the third time i became a celebrity
i took up a political cause to make
my life feel more necessary.
i think it was saving cute animals
or some shit.
i raised millions for cute animals.
we stepped over homeless people
to get to the lavish galas
where i was rejoiced as a savior.

the last time i became a celebrity
it was due to some latent nostalgia.
people wanted to remember a time when
they didn’t feel bad all the time
and they loosely associated my celebrity
with that time.
they figured that if they brought me back
into the spotlight
that they might feel the same way
they once did.
but seeing me now
years later
i am haggard and bloated.
i look like how they don’t want to feel anymore
and i am soon cast aside
like expensive sunglasses
in the bargain bin
at a thrift store.