In high school, our English teacher made us keep a journal and submit a journal entry everyday. This meant that I had to write everyday, which was fun. It was, when I look back at it, the mid-80’s version of happyrobot. From time to time, when the teen angst was making me crazy, I’d write some sort of “poetry” and submit it. In my mind, these poems were possibly the worst collection of words ever put together in the history of the world.
Really. I am physically cringing just writing about them now.
Oddly, nothing “bad” happened in regard to the “poems”. They were never read out loud. My teacher never chided me or said they were despicable. I think I once had a “good!” written in the margins.
But, for whatever reason, poetry and I keep our distance. As does dancing in public (but I think I can blame an ex-girlfriend for that when she chided me for ‘grooving’).
in highschool i hit your car
in the parking lot
while letting a girl i was interested in
she steered my car
right into the side of your
and bent the frame
you were going through such a douche bag period then
that i kept my lips sealed
when days later
you discovered the dent