Tuesday, September 1, 2015

No Pocket Protector

I am grumpy.
I am dressed like
a 1980’s TV nerd
White socks,
tan khakis,
black shoes,
black belt,
short sleeve
button down shirt.
Black rimmed eye-glasses.

I only noticed my outfit just now
and it seems hysterical,
and yet a laugh hasn’t
broken through my
exceedingly grumpy

I’m scowling.
I hate humidity.
I hate being too warm.
I hate being too warm,
and hungry.
My forehead is furrowed
and I’m sure there are
anger lines creased across it.

I’m uncomfortable.
I’m anxious.  
For no logical or discernible
reason, or at least, nothing that
I can explain in a way that anyone
else can understand.  It’s exhausting.
It’s boring.  It’s annoying.  It’s crazy.

So I’m grumpy,
like a nerdy teenager,
that’s too warm,
waiting for the hammer
to drop in the form of
Buddy Repperton or some other
Stephen King-Esque  horror
novel bully.  

Nervously grumpy. 

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