Poetry Blogs (socially awkward)

While waiting for the bus to school,
I came upon the weighty problem
Of what to do with my hands and feet.

Unused to such quandries and puzzles,
I first thought the answer to be
Simple, like hands in pockets, and stand on feet.

But unbidden, there came to my mind
A picture of myself, standing on my feet.
A plump girl, with her hands in her pockets.

At last I could stand it no longer
...

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I wish to be heard.  To bridge the divide

auto-ostracising me from common

experience.  Common understanding,

inclusion and collusion in present’s

moment.  I think ahead what response my

actions engender.  My words carefully

controlled, observation

based: precision vocabulary I

once envied – recycled at will,

effect calculated.  For reflection

on me, upping my status, ...

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