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Welcoming Act 1
standing at the door
like a dog waiting for a pat
or maybe a hit.
either would do.
you give me that
“thanks for participating” smile,
like i just auditioned
to be forgotten politely.
what do you expect me to say?
that enlightenment dawned on me
between therapy and the kitchen’s white walls?
that i’m writing poetry now
you know, the sad kind
with line breaks that pretend to mean something?
i could tell you i’m doing okay.
that i’ve discovered greatness.
that i sleep like a rock
skipped into a lake.
but let’s not waste each other’s time
you don’t look at me the same.
you look at me as if i owe you rent
for occupying a second.
still, the world spins.
indifferent,
unimpressed.
like a ceiling fan
on a tuesday morning
in a room that always smells like burnt toast.
Copyright ©
Star InYourCar
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