My friends and I
are sitting, bored.
go talk into
I walk up to one
after convincing myself,
and loudly say, “Hi Katie” (Katie…Katie…Katie…)
The whole band
turns and stares
as heat crawls up my face. Silence.
Hardly anyone remembers it
it still echoes in my ears.
I’m half-awake and I’m listening to the Barber of Steubenville.
I can’t remember if I think his voice is really good,
Or if I have allowed sentimentality to overrun my senses.
Dino’s duende is clouding my vision.
What is it about allowing yourself to be perceived
As something less than you are?
How can this add to the one’s appeal?
“If you’re in on the joke with me,
You know it’s only apple juice,”
The man suggests with a figurative wink.
The ice cubes in his glass remind me of maracas.
“Why over-think this one?” I ask myself.
“Just lay back and allow yourself to be taken along for the ride.”
— The Major
Don’t remember this battle from history class? Not surprising. Neither Longfellow nor Whitman wrote about this one. It occurred much too recently. The combatants were perennial underdog, Island Boy and his arch-nemesis, the Iron Major.
Not since David met Goliath on the fields of Canaan has such an epic contest between mismatched belligerents taken place. Continue reading