Not ‘selfish’, she says. more ‘difficult to get on with’.
Ahhh, I say, that’s code for ‘tricky’.
I know I am. My best mate is too.
Human beans are ‘tricky’ all around.
They don’t grow straight. They grow with all sorts
of genetic quirks; there’s always something askew,
that rubs people up the wrong way, that chafes.
How people live together, I don’t know.
Sometimes I have trouble just living with me.
I’m not a one trick pony, but I am tricky.
pic courtesy of Pinterest
For too long they have lead a solitary existence,
Moping in corners of the internet, blushing wallflowers
Stuttering if someone even comes to speak to them.
Now all this is changing.
I am introducing my poems to each other,
a matchmaker, if you like, partnering one poem
with another of similar makeup, all in
A single manuscript, a mass marriage of poems,
With the publisher’s blessing.
Together they will lie next to each other
for the ages. All will be invited. Now all
I have to do is pair up like poems,
Nervous Nellies unused to company
* apologies & thanks to Skyhooks