literature

like dust

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Literature Text

you speak with such assurance, such experience and knowledge
with this sort of thing and your lips shape your words with the

confidence of a teacher who recites what he knows from
expensive night classes because he was too smart to take
science in high school when it was free

beaming with all eyes on him like a puppy willing to please -
except you don't care what others think, do you


and you sure seem like you are doing this guy a favour with your
insincere pity, with your mockery and your brash words that you hope

will earn a laugh or two from the drunk and tired stranger who lent
you a drink (and whom you know nothing of) and while he probably
agrees with you, how do you know

that he isn't what you are making sound like an unfortunate event,
something off in the distance to laugh at from your lawn chair


and it's amazing how you had me in stitches just a few moments ago;
i wonder if anyone noticed when i stopped laughing, but more significantly

i wonder if they have even realized in their mindless stupor the bead of
sweat on my brow and my arms making to cross uncomfortably over my chest
like i am trying to protect myself from

ignorance like you that bleeds into the fabric of the sweaters and hats of
your lethargic peers and settles resolutely into my thoracic cavity
are we, as human beings, too sensitive, or not sensitive enough?
the answer is: i should have been less sober last night.

experimenting with style and structure, quite unsuccessfully. and i am coming to realize that i use the word "and" too much.
© 2011 - 2024 the-balcony-scene
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