Online Romance Suffering For The Smile
While the others swerved, Rick remained reserved, as
these things are, as these things go. He thought it was
funny how, while the rest were in a row, he sat aside
and watched the show. He knew it was he who had no need
for all of their shenanigans. A face so dead, he'd fit
in with the mannequins. And at twenty-eight, Rick was
very late at picking up their social cues. He thought
it was quite a stub after dancing at a club to stand
aside and feign confused. He thought it was he who,
though timid, had settled on a fine approach, where
slipperless, like Cinderella and her coach, he'd stand
bored lost inside his mind 'til the lights would come
up and they'd find at 2am he would still be there,
just an altar boy without a prayer. On a Monday night
at the Featherlight, he showed up late to make the
scene. He thought it was pitiful and the music it was
dull. The girls who watched guessed Rick was mean, but
they thought it was he who deserved to be someone they
were talking to, and one girl asked, 'Boy, why'dja
hafta look so blue?' He turned her way and spoke up to
say, 'I hate everybody in this place.' He thought it
was very clear but his humor, it was queer and with no
hint 'cross his straight face. He thought that what she
had just asked him was spoken just to condescend, but
quite simply, she'd been hopeful that his jowls would
mend she'd just hoped that he'd crack a smile, but he
went off in the corner for awhile. And when we get
older he'll still be there, pouting smugly in a rocking
chair. (Beware.) Here's the setting sun of another one.
As rainstorms come and rainstorms go, he thought of his
boring town painted boring brown and folks he did not
care to know. He thought it was quite alright to go out
tonight amid the shined-up, regular crowd. Yeah, it's
just his style to be suffering for a smile. If one
should wear a wrinkled brow, he thought it was he.
