A man walks into a room to be smooth and
schmooze and put himself out there. With the
big attitude and chest out hard, he walks the room
and sees the need for people to stop and take
a second look. Oh wow, look at him, who the hell
is he? He smiles like it’s to himself but it’s for
all the room to see. He can shake a hand, and
fuck a bitch and talk like the meaning of life
is prime marketing. Evaluated one—who me?
Yes, you.—for you there has been a God—divine—
and He has made you Hercules. While me, well,
I am in the room, see? Over there, sitting by—
no, not him—there: the hors d'oeuvres.
To use my poetry, please contact me (view profile for email). White-space best viewed on desktop.
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