Home » Poetry » Year 2: Day 145 – Hot Shot

Year 2: Day 145 – Hot Shot

You’re no Sigmund Freud
as much as you’re no Fred Astaire,
I do declare.

Your dancing skills are more like
electric jumping-jacks,
Pinocchio on fire,
car dealership wind noodles,
or Napoleon Dynamite.

Your powers of interpretation
are even worse-
it’s not because of my childhood,
nor have I been abused,
I’m not scared of judgment,
nor afraid to be attracted to you.

It’s not even because of your dance moves,
though that helps.

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3 thoughts on “Year 2: Day 145 – Hot Shot

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