Sure, that’s okay
Take your time.
It’s not like I have
anywhere to be.
You, O lumbering
lummox, wade your way
through the hall, like a
manatee, leisurely shambling
underwater, except you’re much less graceful.
You remind me of
one of those documentaries,
the kind played on
drizzly Sunday mornings.
The hippopotamus, much
like you, hall-crosser of
my nightmares, struts so very
slowly across the savanna.
Except this is, in fact,
not a savanna.
It is a hallway.
And you, now with your friends,
are crowding it.
I would ask you to
move, I really would.
But I’m too polite.
“Excuse me. I need to get through.”
I repeat myself,
agitation rising, bubbling
to the top, dangerously
close to spilling over.
“Get out of my way, dammit!”
I push my way through, shoving
you and your hippopotamus
crew aside.
Victory floods me as I walk down
the cleared path. The sounds of an imaginary
triumphant
orchestra fills my ears, drowning out
the world around me.
I’ve made a decision.
No more bending over backwards
for everyone else.
Mom was wrong.
Sometimes, being selfish is
so, so
rewarding.
)
