Morning Becomes Generic

And maybe you're not special.  Maybe you're just like all the others and if not just like, well, then really fucking similar.  Maybe you got your haircut like that because you saw some girl on the train whose hair you admired and you quietly appropriated it. You were inspired by it.  You copied it but don't ever use that word.  You sampled.  You used it as a jumping off point.  Perhaps your entire existence has been borrowed this way.  You touch it and yet it's not yours.  You listen and others can hear, too.  Well, listen to this, chick: you're lost in the supermarket again. There's a cracked bottle of cranberry juice flooding aisle three and I think it's your fault.  Here's a mop.