Black Jumper
Steps abound, our shoes exercised
to the curiosities within
Window glances, eyes fantasise
to the details of what I'm wearing
I turn to my friend, clueless of me
with something that resembles a grunt
mouth failed, ears perked to thee
repeating myself, I ask "Do I look like a C***?"
Baffled by the brash questioning
he looks me up and down
Knowing all the while this was festering
with a face, red, like a clown
Laughter lashes at my ego
as my fears, worst, are confirmed
Mocking the very fabric as we go
to the place, I have previously, been burned
Coffee continues the cruelty crusade
as he reassures me "You look fine"
Relieved with myself I've avoided the day
that I committed the stylistic crime
The place is empty, devoid of events
we learned it's because of the summer
knowledge in mind, next time it prevents
the night to an unexpected bummer.
Posted Sep 4, 2018, 5:35 PM UTC · edited