I have a secret obsession. It's totally tupperware. My own science project. Defying wear and tear. I'm jealous of shopping carts. And all of their brand new things. I want to fondle their labels. In hopes one'll rub off on me. 'Cause everybody wants to feel brand new. Like they do. I spend my days indoors. Doing like ding-dongs do. Perfectly preserving. Myself for you. I take things out of their boxes. Take out my note pad and pen. Study carefully. 'Cause everybody wants to feel brand new. Like they do. So tell me you want me. Tell me you need me. Tell me I'll always be desirable. Especially to you. Make me feel brand new. Attractive!. Brand spanking clean. And desirable as homecoming queen. But if I were to bet. All of the frenchfries in the world. That you would say such things. I would surely be one very hungry girl. I approach china cautiously. If there's cracks I deny it. I ingest only perfect things. Into my visual diet. And at night I undress myself. In front of your favorite things. Your brand new hand-tied blue bass fishing lure. And in the corner your money clip sings. Everybody wants to feel brand new. Everybody wants to feel brand new. Like they do. As they do. I do too.