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October 24, 2024

Awkward…

I’m awkward,

sorry,

I’m awkward.

All elbows and knees and oversized feet,

crashing into immovable objects

for lack of depth perception.

I just want to make friends, connect -

talk until my lips fall off about anything

and everything,

and nothing all at once.

I wear my heart on my sleeve,

hyperfixate and overshare.

But the world is so big,

there are so many strangers -

who could be friends,

who might want to be friends,

who might also be looking too.

I push over furniture, stand on tables,

and yell into the void:

Is anyone out there?

If you’re lost,

or lonely,

or confused,

or overwhelmed,

or maybe just awkward too -

Here

take my hand.

At this table there are no strangers,

only friends we haven’t met yet -

lots of them.

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By Deedre Conkey