Poetry Exercise Regarding Dialogue and Embarrassment
You sat next to me, chagrin on your face, “foot locker” on your tongue, but you couldn’t turn the key. I’m embarrassed because I had to stoop slightly, because I know I don’t have the best posture at times. I’m embarrassed for you because you find criticism to be gospel. Why can’t we talk like adults? What is with this round and round cat and mouse game? I don’t understand the shame in trying to be up front. Do you? You didn’t realize I was a doctor of sorts, the unrecognizable kind, the one without degrees up the ass, but you want those anal beads to talk about. So you can be beside yourself in glee. I said “repeat offenders” today, and I meant it. Has your mind ever been groped to the point of wanting to justify why it happened, because you’re embarrassed about it? I have. Have you ever had psychic pain and no matter how much you explain it to others, you just have a…ah…ahh…I can’t think, my mind is distracted. So, I’m going into this sort of detail makes me hurt because I remember that I didn’t make the best decisions in my life. I’m embarrassed to say who has hurt me, because he or she may not even have a recollection. Yes, I’ve stood like the eager boy with a rose in my mind, waiting for love, running towards it with any chance I can get. And do boys try, and do girls lie? In bed they both do, but this isn’t the birds and the bees. This is my life, and my roommates would attest, I rip up the stage like it’s fabric, because I like to design a place where I don’t have to worry about imagining a dream. I just dream, and sing and dance…prancing high and without swearing an oath over keys. Goodbye. Be confident in your style!