Girls push past me

Stylish combat boots

Finding basement stairs 

Tight pants, low-cut shirts

And straightened hair.

Their mascara-ed eyes scan and skip

The spot where I stand.
But I’m grateful for

The lack of acknowledgement. 

If their eyes lit up on me

I would freeze

My shoulders would scrunch

And the words they would throw

In my direction

Would meet brick wall. 

All I would reverberate

Is a hesitating smile

Accompanied by unsure eyes.
My brain just isn’t taking small talk tonight.

And I will never understand 

Why cursory conversation

Slaps me in the face
like a 
20 step algebraic equation.

The truth is:

I don’t care what you thought of that math test

I wanna know what you think 
of trees in the fall.

I don’t care what your tweet was about.

I wanna know why you 
were on twitter
at 4 am

on a school night.

I don’t care how your boyfriend is.
I wanna know where you stand with god. 

I don’t care
where you got your dress,

how much you studied,

or if you dyed your hair.

What makes you cry at night?

Have you ever felt insane?

Do you believe in soul mates? 

What do you think about the moon?

Which song are you embarrassed to know all the words to?
And do you ever worry that your mom isn’t proud of you?

I just find that

It’s so much easier

To talk to people

When they’re actually

saying something.