Selfish

Ooh, another attempt at poetry. Let's hope it's not a brilliant failure, hmm?

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.