He walks like bone
with coffee stale breath
that I try to inhale
hoping to find answers
I struggle to decipher
these problems
it is some unknown language
he speaks in puzzles
a poet would never understand
but I try
anxious fingers squeeze
the skin on my neck
releases and balls-up with
sweat again
I am four years old
learning to shape letters
in my name
and cry in frustration
when they don't match
yours
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and this is my first experience with a tutor...and no he wasn't hot or a nerd
...he looked like my grandfather



this is an exellent penning indeed, thanks for sharing your left brain problem, and poetic muse.














35 old applause
