Butt’s Up

Posted: August 15, 1991 in Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , ,

oh yeah.
I wasn’t even
allowed to compete
in the darkie circle
where you were allowed hope.
my identity
was my glasses
and the computer
that was my entertainer.
all the people
I called friends
would have sacrificed each other
in a moment
for a turquoise ray of hope
at possibly being cool.
I wish I could honestly say
that I listened to the Cure
in my dark room
and was depressed,
but I was too busy
pushing away your laughter
by being the first
to solve Wizardry,
gaining some sort of recognition,
some sort of self-respect.
no I was less than cool
to identify with
the solemn cries of Robert Smith
or the wail of Siouxie
– it was beyond me
and my AM radio.
I couldn’t fathom
the courage it took
to compete for coolness
so important to the young
in the early hours
only the text of my
computer games
told me what was real
and how important I could be.
a graphics princess
couldn’t know how sad
her hero truly was.
butt’s up.

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