Description: wow, after writing this poem, the word "chance" sounds really funny to me. You know? Like if you say the word "fork" over and over and over again, it starts to sound foreign and clumsy, and you wonder if maybe the reason it sounds so odd is because it's really fourk, or forck, or something?
maybe it's just me. But now the word "chance" feels like speaking french with cotton in my mouth.
(if you guys don't get what I'm saying, it's cool. It's not relevant to the poem at all.)
this is just about... a BOYYY!!
why is it that
when I'm half-jogging to the movies
in a dogpuke-green old hoodie
my face unwashed my hair unbrushed
my general appearance screaming "bag lady!"
I chance to run into
him?
he didn't care, I guess, that I looked
like the shittiest shit to ever be shat
in fact, he smiled in that tall, quiet way
and asked me where I'd been, and how
then he requested a hug
which I duly imparted
I was late to the movie
because walking there, I was weighted by
the twitchy-fingered, balloons popping joyous possibility
could this be my chance?
do I have a chance?
(no chance in hell, Kristen, not one in hell)
shut up insecurities--!
This could be my chance!
why is it that when I'm half-jogging to the movies in a dogpuke-green old hoodie my face unwashed my hair unbrushed my general appearance screaming "bag lady!" I chance to run into him?
he didn't care, I guess, that I looked like the [censored]tiest [censored] to ever be shat in fact, he smiled in that tall, quiet way and asked me where I'd been, and how then he requested a hug which I duly imparted
I was late to the movie because walking there, I was weighted by the twitchy-fingered, balloons popping joyous possibility could this be my chance? do I have a chance? (no chance in hell, Kristen, not one in hell) shut up insecurities--! This could be my chance!
What did prompt you to stumble into him at what appeared to be such an inappropriate time? Hmmm... Chance=fate=karma=possibility=life=???
It sounds as if your self esteem is nestled firmly next to the remains of the Titanic, young lady. You fear that randomness will remain just that, rather than evolve into the possibilty your instincts are considering. I understand the need to isolate certain words in each stanza to emphasixe 'him' and 'hug' and 'possibility,' but you might consider homogenizing the lengths of the other lines for readability (unless the raggedness suits your purpose as a 'bag lady' theme).
Submission Name: Chance!
