I’ve searched for an idol colorful and fat
to sit with me at my table and smile
a reassuring smile at my plight.
This idol of mine should know
what my needs are, without the need
of any confessional crap — anticipate them even —
in keeping me satisfied.
The empty feelings I’ve had by my side
will magically disappear,
my idol must make sure of that.
He’s to provide comfort, look out for my interests,
and correct all shortcomings
that might get in the way
of a full enjoyment of life.
My savior. My hope. My pal.