snarky

I think I may be too snarky for poetry
Evolved and matured beyond giggling and rude
I am polite and patient but sometimes
oh my fucking god
sometimes I am balled over by pretentiousness
and the narcissism and the delusions of grandeur

I draw broad conclusions but perhaps in sand
the ocean breathes, reclaims my perceived brilliance
the particles realign, shift, a shaken etch-a-sketch
without the supposed permanence of ink and page

I too want relevance and admiration and legacy
and I wander into self-importance and warm too much
and glitter too much when under the spot, at the mic
but at night i return with bags full of unsold books
and wonder if I am too much of a coward for poetry
too soft hearted and crazy, too suddenly shy and lazy

Snarky feels safer