A Poem for Zach Braff

A POEM FOR ZACH BRAFF - probably by Amanda Palmer

after a poem for Dzhokhar

(Note: this joke poem probably makes no sense anymore. The internet moves fast)

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you don't know how it feels outside of the womb, but it is probably at least a little less whimsical than your films.

you don't know that you want no scrubs until a scrub from Scrubs is trying to scrub your wallet.

you don't know how brave it is for me to write this poem.

you don't know how close your name is to Zach Barf. Seriously. Braff, Barff, Barf. Think about it.

you don't know what it is like to not be able to move, to be immobile, to be stopped dead, to be like a marble statue, like I do, because I was a living statue in Harvard Square.

you don't know what a paradox that is: how statues are dead, frozen things, but I am alive!

you don't know how the Garden State is overrun with weeds.

you don't know how much Sriracha sauce to put on a bahn mi.

you don't know how much bravery is inside me, or how brave it is to be a living statue, or how if you look up bravery in the dictionary there is a picture of a whimsical living statue and the caption under that statue says: me.

you don't know how what I do is make art, and you can't criticize my art, although if you don't like it this LITERALLY only took me 9 minutes anyway so whatev.

you don't know the proper hand washing protocol before surgery.

you don't know how to play one on TV.

you don't know any human thing, you do not even know how to breathe.

you don't know I stole that line from Zbigniew Herbert, but now you probably think Zbigniew Herbert is the name of precocious child whose imagination becomes more real to him than reality after his mother dies in a hot air balloon accident or something.

you don't know how Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, the alleged marathon bomber, was desperately trying to charge his iPhone as authorities closed in on him, but I do.... in my imagination!

you don't know how to tell me how to get to Sesame Street.

you don't know how to keep up with the Kardashians.

you don't know Jack! Jack plays the musical saw with a bow made from authentic 70s mustache hair in my band and raises organic garlic scrapes in his greenpoint loft. I think you'd get along. Maybe he could be in your movie?

you don't know how I set the bar for brave already successful entertainers raising money on a website that is supposed to be for people trying to "kick start" a career.

you don't know what art is, or what heart is, but possibly you know what fart is.

you don't know that I was a living statue in Harvard Square and... wait did I already do that one?

you don't know what art is until someone makes fun of you on Twitter.

you don't know how if you can't raise Kickstarter funds out of the chaos, that's when the chaos takes over.

you don't know that's when the chaos takes over.

you don't know that's when the chaos takes over.

you don't know that's when the chaos takes over.

you don't know that's when the chaos takes over.