This is a portion from a longer, untitled poem I wrote two years ago in which I experimented using different sizes and fonts. I think it kinda’ works in prose. I was inspired by Saul Williams’s poem/book, “Said the Shotgun to the Head.”
“Love is an artform slightly removed from its element.” -Saul Williams
Yet more lines about love (or the lack thereof). It’s not as if I planned it this way, it’s just easier to write than say. My voice has been dubbed. Perhaps it all began in high school when I got tongue-tied (and petrified) around pretty girls and resorted to cheap poetry as a means of communication epitomized through my prom date invite carefully slid in the crack of her locker—’I know I don’t know you very well, or at all for that matter, but I can tell you and I will get along great, will you be my prom date?’ She said yes, but that’s the only time I ever heard that word from her. I don’t even think she liked me. She was shapely. A poor, brown girl in a lace, red dress who simply wanted to ride around in an expensive, white limo. She didn’t slow dance. I didn’t finish my Crème Brûlée. We were home by twelve. I don’t blame her. Heroic couplets reek of despair.