Thursday, March 10, 2011

The Stereotype

Always the same approach
Over-sophisticated, semi-poetic brother
Brain-dead from over-analyzing crumpled almost-ideas
Hands in pockets, clinging to undeveloped dreams
Overall a rough draft; dressed in shallow intellect
Say he wanna poetically holla at an ebony princess
Because (big smile) the way he sees it,
She-poets and he-poets belong together.
Polite smile, each corner arched with mild humor and the disappointment of yet another beautiful evening spilled into the ocean.
I’m married (straight-faced)
To my thoughts (muttered under my breath to balance lady justice’s tipped scales)
But no worry (something to sweeten the stupid shock of sadness)
You’re out my league anyway,
In fact if you look closely at me
You’ll see - I’m not really ebony.

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