The Attempt

.

Just as I walked into a new room

I wandered around looking at people

who looked at me probably wondering

what I was doing there. The walls,

art covered, the people, artfully dressed,

my blue jeans, as usual, off center

and unmatched with the venue.

.

Frowns gave way to laughter

as I told successive jokes to break

windows of ice, turning best over

in my head as the way to pierce

the densest fog and meanest

demeanor.

.

Performance and confidence

equated with my old mode

of meeting the new, smiling.

Frowning is for isolated idiots

who have no lives.

.

Stella L. Crews

08-16-17

119a

.

 

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