the knowledge i am most proud of
was bestowed onto me
by my father over games of scrabble
and french bread end pieces sans butter
(a paradox, really)
i memorized the greek alphabet
and stories of grandmother janine
who would’ve loved me, i’m assured
these marathon vocabulary building sessions
were the beginning of my word collection
defenestrate, i was told
was the act of throwing someone out a window
(imbusulate, he joked, was to throw someone
out of a bus.)
so i compiled colloquies like charm bracelets
graduated from prose to poetry, still
dabbling in francophone when stringing together
coherent thoughts threatened to choke me.
i managed to survive.
"being interested in pop culture makes you vapid and unintelligent"
translation: im a miserable pissbaby. im deep because i smoke cheap cigarettes and take my coffee black. have u ever heard of friedrich nietzsche. im so alone.