Tank Tops and Small T-shirts

When I come home
at 2 a.m.
the snow crinkles
and crushes under the weight
of feet that have long been dragging.
The silence, however impossible,
rings through my ears
until I finally fall asleep
at some unknown time.

The loud, ridiculous clubs,
which make an awkward person
such as myself
look even more so,
drown out any intelligence
or verbal equivalent,
making it impossible to know
whether anyone is even worth it.

And so I drag on again,
defeated and alone again,
but rightfully convinced
that tank tops and small t-shirts
are the perfect example
of everything in this world
that's exactly and completely
what I don't want.

all works on this page Copyright 2000 by Paul Ryan

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