Person 1:
So how was your long weekend?
Me:
Uhmmm great

Person 2:
Did you have a great holiday?
Me:
Yeah of course

Me:
Why do I lie to everyone?
Me:
It’s what we do so they don’t know we’re miserable just like everyone else is

*sigh

Please
Remain
Obliging
For
Everyone;
Share
Success,
Intellect,
Op­erating
Notes,
And
Laughter.

8 fifteen in the morning,
huddled around a wooden framed door,
awaiting today’s moderator,
another professional development,
Restorative Practices,
the art of inclusion,
the art of accountability;
Skill building,
Cooperation,
The mutual hate among us as we stare into a dark room,
windowless,
Awaiting another 7 hour day of ice breakers,
We clutch our coffees and populate the lone corner —
— 12 capacity room in the basement,
All 15 of us,
Good morning: let’s begin

High waisted jeans.
Converse with the colors faded,
Socks that are too warm.
Coffee that you forgot,
now it's too cold.
Goldilocks with a pixie cut,
but it's grown out.
And dyed red.

Joking about suicide but taking it seriously.
Alive on a bed with petals and thorns.
While autumn decays the terrace around to warn
you of the winter soon to storm through and
separate you from the torn.

His smile faded worse than your shoes.
And you spent a lot of time walking at night,
through puddles, trudging up dredged silt
and kicked loam
on your way half-buzzed to your apartment home.
It took a season longer for him to fade from bright
to held steadfast against the backdrop of vacuum
stagnant light.

He smells of sweat and sweetly crunched leaves.
Popular spice rub and sparkling water throat-feel.
Your jeans you bought with the holes in them are *****.
You'll wear 'em 'til you're thirty,
you're thrifty,
and frugal, but you still tip thirty percent per purchase spent.
Because you were in their black shoes once,
dressed shirt pressed and smiled to impress those
who spent less than you'd guess on their own tips back then.
Mid-20s and all you are is memories of nineteen.
A few more to even the score.

Yoga pants as pajamas. Pajama bottoms to class.
It used to be about the glances, and remarks.
Now it's about delivering yourself from the past.

You'll tip handsomely to the ugly people.
And nod your head with your chin bounce up,
in a show of recognition for the facade we all front.

You'll smile when most frown.
You'll rejoice amongst the vogue of cynics.
You will, because will is what does and you don't give up.
In a show of recognition for the facade we all front.

To whom this may concern,
I wished for it!
I cried for it!
I almost died for it!
Nobody shows me love!
Not from the people I like at least.
I waited all my life.
God would give me no love.
Now I am reckless.
Where can I find her?
I am tortured by it.
Now I can not live without it.
Please someone tell me it is alright.
No one will say anything sincere.
It just plays into my childhood.
At least that is a professional point of view.
I say it is pointless!
Why talk about the past when you do not want to relive it?
I am like anybody else.
I have a fantasy and I want to live it.
I am sorry I am using “it” a lot.
I am just venting.
I have a few things wrong that makes me not go into the public.
I can not take any more.
Yes I have my eye on a few.
The intuition that they do not like me always creeps in.
I was hoping to become a writer too.
I guess there is nothing more to do.

Swaggering daggers swaddling swatches
Winning spinning machine-like linnens
Having stabbing grabbing suits
Never ever silver-tounged seluths
On a journey? go to Deluth
Stop at Denny's, sit in a booth
Order a super bird, hot and delicious
Into my belly, full and malicious
Leave in a hurry, stand up then scurry
Back to the car but don't go far
Light up a spliff and head for the cliff
Jump just in time, land on a dime
Goodbye to my auto, is my new motto
Can't get back home, at least till tomorrow

I’m the entertainer,
So nobody will touch me.
The truth be told
They don’t think much of me.
I’m paid to be here
Not like the shimmering guests.
They take their pay in champagne
And believe they’re better than the rest.

I perform for them, smiling,
I show them a happy face,
And do my very best to make
An evening they’ll never replace.
I make music and joy all night
And make sure to be grateful
If someone leaves a tip in the jar.
Maybe tonight will be fateful.

But probably I’ll go home
Alone and completely forgotten.
They’re a beautiful basket of fruit,
But too many have gone rotten.
It’s not that they are evil people,
It’s just that they don’t care.
I am the background music
Doing something, somewhere.

It makes perfect sense to me,
They didn’t come here for this;
To revel in the brilliance I will show.
They’ll never know what they miss.
They won’t even notice it
Unless there’s a song they really love.
It’s almost performing for myself
And letting my talent rise above.

So, I perform for them, smiling,
I show them a happy face,
And do my very best to make
An evening they’ll never replace.
I make music and joy all night
And make sure to be grateful
If someone leaves a tip in the jar.
Maybe tonight will be fateful.