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



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





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