Cool

I will never

be cool

I will never

be funny clever forward enough

I will never have the right thing to say

on the tip

of my tongue

I will never be bright enough

I will never be the social shooting star

the one

the core

I would not want to be

in the middle

I would shrink shirk hide

I will never be cool

have it

be happening

or whatever the fuck the word for it is now

I will always be peering through the glass

glad to be on the dark side of the glass

but wistful

about the ease style smooth

of the people in the light

 

© Elizabeth Cutts 2014

 

***

This poem wrote itself in a few minutes flat, I think I’ll need some distance before I can evaluate it honestly. The total lack of punctuation makes me a bit nervous (see – not cool).