DEAR I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S NOT BUTTER

by William Ward Butler

It’s okay. These days, I don’t feel so revolutionary either. I’m content to lie on the floor and let the heat of this world ruin me. I, too, have been judged based on what I am not and contain 0% artificial preservatives. I, too, feel like an imitation of what I’m supposed to be. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get this personal. We’re all doing the best we can at any given moment. I don’t think you know what I mean. I’m not even myself.And you’re not even butter.

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