You betta recognize!
sometimes, like a tortoise,
I shoot back into my closet space,
and then, feeling foolish,
I lurk about, scowling
as a crooked pair of cartooned eyes
behind the shuttered doors.
I rub my carpet for reassurance,
I crouch and wave my arms and
I make faces and obscene gestures
at the backs of the doors
where no one really sees me
being so rebellious.
as a poet I tell you
my dreams and what
I think about,
and certain selected fears.
I write to tell you these things,
and I pretend
that you are listening.
not so different
from anyone else.
I always think that
I start too many poems
with I.
I wonder if people really care
what other people really think.
But it’s enjoyable to think
someone else will enjoy
looking through my I’s.
Froggacuda's Weblog 