On Filling In A Questionaire (Poetry)

You ask me to fill in this form —
complete the boxes — tick
all that are applicable
and where the answers need
some further explanation — give
more details in the tiny space
provided.

I have questions, too — for you —
do you imagine I have thoughts that small? —
that my brain’s so atrophied and
my IQ
so very limited that I can fit
the whole of what I have to say
in a few inches?

You gather your statistics in
a loaded way — your form designed
to fool the filler-in to think
that his opinion has a place...
Truth is, the numbers crunched will prove
whatever purpose you’d in mind —
my comments raise no flags.

I know it matters not one jot
if I send it back
                                or not.