you don’t want a friend
at your side at ball games
cheering for the losing team
no matter who they are.
you want someone to wear
your jersey, sing your
songs and clap at the same moment
you are clapping.
so long ago
before there were
friends there were friends;
humans spoken to not
commented upon.
confiding was okay; betrayal might not
have been recorded by
twenty television cameras.
you wanted me now you have me;
you’ve had me; you used to have me;
you still have me but I won’t be
your black-eyed tinny lipped
follower.
no. I won’t be
won’t be
won’t be
merely a fan
or your scab kneed follower.
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Comments
rated
Raney
Rated.
Nice to meet you through such a nice poem.
J-