The Business of Saying Hello
Hey, sup? Shadowed by a name, while trotting
on by, in a courtyard, down a hallway;
passing by someone. It’s a saluting
sailor or the tipping of a beret.
It’s over in a heartbeat, but what if
there’s no reciprocation? Say I hold
my horses, give you the reins, hands stay stiff.
My eyes look away, as if I behold
Medusa. My tongue ties into a bow
when I encounter you, but don’t I bear
a burning passion to proclaim hello?
The boat does not rock, there is no affair.
When the day is done, is it set in stone?
Doesn’t everyone deserve to be known?
Poetry Slam: