Hi
How are you
How’s your week been
How’s the weather
Why do I feel
Like this stranger’s small talk
Is the only medium
That the waves can push through
Why do I feel
Like when you look at me
You see those scabby knees
Clumsy fingers
Almost sewn together
Dirty blonde knots
Snuck into glass enclosures
Those pictures on the wall
Should be stretched and distorted
But in all honesty
I don’t want you to know
That I forgot what to say
Without everything tumbling out
There’s a new kind of distance
Between your fear of Algernon
And my faltering ability
To smell the flowers
The great expectations I’ve grown into
Too large to be ticklish anymore
Misspelled words in perfect cursive
The 59th Street Bridge soft under your breath
What were our rituals
Those precious moments
I forgot which one I had picked out
That you would have pressed into my hands
You only see the best of me
Which means you don’t see me
I’d like to keep it that way
I’d like for that seven year old girl
To keep you company
I’m sorry
My poems are too sad and long
But I know you’ll read them anyway