I’ve often feared that what I really am isn’t a fiction writer or a comedian or a social critic, but a poet, and not even a good one at that. I can think of few things worse in this life than having one’s calling be the pursuit of finely-crafted verse.
I’ve been short my entire life. Short for my age, then short for a man. My driver’s license said I was 5’5″ for years because I would rather break the law than give up my imaginary two inches (male readers will understand what I’m talking about)…
To a certain extent, I still take my writing this seriously, but I also sometimes, like, you know, get lazy and like, just kind of go with whatever word will work. It’s fine.
Whatever the reason, my poetry career has greatly benefited from the fact that, from the ages of 7 to 23, I could fall in love at the drop of a hat. The girls and women I fell in love with have walked away from this experience with mixed results.
I selected this poem today for one simple reason: this post needed to be short.