I’m funny about
being introduced. like my friend
Happy will introduce herself
without a qualm to anyone
whereas I hang back. it doesn’t matter
who it is, I feel awkward.
today I felt bad
because I didn’t introduce myself
to the workmen, let alone
buy them some beers
that they could enjoy on the terrace
while they were slaving away
fixing my air conditioning. Happy
would have done it. why
can’t I? why am I so very shy
to tell people my name
and ask theirs in return?
why would I rather
sit in the corner and write a poem
than meet people
I don’t already know? it’s silly
really. it would probably behoove me
to make a little more effort
to give people a chance
to get to know me
before assuming
they don’t like the cut
of my jib.

Published by

R. Brookes McKenzie

what fresh hell is this

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