Poem Number 18615

don't do the things you do. don't have to oblige you.

Everybody wants you to be or do something.

Or embrace some aspect of their lives
that has nothing to do with you.

Like, there was a guy I knew who wanted everyone to
'get' his obsession with office origami.
I did not indulge, claiming a gastrointestinal issue with
folded papers.

I was never invited to his bachelor party.
They went paint-ball shooting, apparently.

.

You can't even fake it.
You need to *really* join them.
I tried to attend this front-desk officer Mandy's kid's
sixth birthday party, once.

My brownbagged jim beam didn't go down well.
I swear, I didn't pull it out until they started to hit the piniata,
but still, somebody noticed, and alerted somebody.

"My god, I can hear the smell of your alcohol upon your chiming breath!" I remember Mandy screaming creatively as I was pushed out of the suburban home, realizing it was going to be very hard to call a cab in this area.

Somehow, I got home. The next lunar cycle, everybody got to go to Bill Schmaltgeizer's bar/t mitzvah, except me. Damn, I really wanted to see those twins come to age.

.

I tried to go to the young people's bars and clubs instead. You know, the places where kids from college hang out. The stint didn't last long, because I would always ask if we could burn some buildings down for kicks and giggles, and the new kids were all gen y and shit, and didn't see the profit in the business.

I would walk home completely drunk from those places, thinking, "Shit, shouldn't I have had a heart attack and died in that there puddle by now?"

When I came home, I'd smash the light bulbs with my shoes. I'd curse the man who left them on, wasting electricity in these difficult times. Then, grabbing a bottle of rum from the fridge, I'd head on to the computer section, and type in the screensaver password.

A new puzzle always awaited. Somehow, in some alternate reality, I would have set myself up with puzzles to solve when I got home.

My fingernails grew, as did my beard. When it became a hassle because the beard hair was tangling my fingers and screwing up the keyboard sensors, I shaved.

Everything was like new again. I could go back to do my thing.

/wc
-------
inspired by ( mp3shara.net.ru/uploads/posts/1192262000_hole_ask_for_it_1995_43003.jpg ) /wc