I spy a lollipop, looking sweet and red;

I spy the receptionist, his nametag stating, “Ted”;

I spy the phone he’s using, with a long, loopy chord;

I spy the wall it’s attached to, but I don’t care about it — I’m bored;

I spy the wallpaper, with pictures of brown bears kissing;

I spy the chair touching it — a piece of leather is missing;

I spy a TV, one with a happy woman speaking;

I spy a bottle for a baby, one that’s really leaking;

I spy a flash on the TV, a silly, weird commercial;

I spy another flash, then another — but just an infomercial;

I spy, again, the lollipop, still so, so alluring;

And again I wonder: I’m a grown man playing I Spy — what am I doing?