It was the voice of hockey to speak
whispers, threats of winter wind.
In summers I had wind slapped cheeks.
“The sun,” I said. My pride, my sin.
In summers I had faked my skill
at sonnets and impressionist
paintings. Life was no big deal
but there was plenty I had missed.
When I was filled with arrogance
convinced that I was not a puck
I asked a lady for a dance,
demurely she said, “fly to fuck.”
I tried for a part in Pinter’s The Room
and didn’t get it.
3 comments:
I think we all feel that we fake out skills, so that certainly rings true.
And I quite like "the voice of hockey to speak whispers".
It's the Canadian in me- sometimes I fake at that as well.
"The voice of hockey to speak whispers" is a great line, also "Life was no big deal but there was plenty I had missed."
I have to agree, I think its a rare few who never feel that they fake skills. Especially when I dealing in the arts do I feel that way.
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