Porcupine

Cool shirt she says, surrounded by her friends, as I walk by.

Thanks.

Audrey always asks eloquent, complex questions in class

Always is half-Asian and smiling

Always is everything I’ve ever wanted.

I want to tell her that I could be everything she ever wanted

Because I have a cool shirt

And I would treat her like she’s everything I’ve ever wanted.

But I don’t know how to say that in small talk.

 

Everyone except me is bilingual in casual conversation.

Fluent in flirting. 

Mouths and tongues dancing to the oldest song in the world.

It must be muscle memory. 

I’m in the back of the lecture hall drinking glue

My throat swollen shut, my lips bitten bloody.

 

I want to talk to her and I want her to talk to me.

Eavesdropping feels like stealing music.

Audrey is a band whose shirt I won’t wear in public

Because I’m afraid of looking like a poser as if I’m not cool enough

Because she’s someone who pays so much attention to the person she’s speaking with

It’s like being on stage in front of everyone.

 

Whatever I say could dribble out of my mouth

Something I’ve been chewing on for far too long.

A bad joke might as well be a giant stain on my chest.

Staring at her while she stares back.

At least that’d be eye contact.

I can talk about porcupines though.

During the winter, they try to share their body heat

Skin against skin

Close enough to feel each other breathe

But they can’t.

Their sharp spines hurt each other.

So they don’t.

 

I’ll write forever on this side of the glass wall.

Each letter is a piece of my DNA in gray matter ink.

From the outside, it’s illegible. 

The scrawl of a quiet lunatic

Who must be locked away in there for some good reason.

 

One day, Audrey might knock on the cell door

And ask me to open up.

I wish I knew how.

How do I let someone in?

No one let me in.

I don’t remember putting up those defenses

But they must be there for a reason.

The porcupine needs his to survive.

Or is that when people use an ice breaker?

 

I’m from another dimension.

A planet of telepathy.

Where the speed of emotion is instantaneous

Where thought is a wormhole to the farthest reaches of the unknown universe.

Where there are no rules

And there are no games

Everything is real.

But only in my mind.

 

I’m just a kid with his head down

Eyes even lower

Too scared to talk to anyone.

I’ve never had to get to know myself

So I’ll spare them the ordeal.

I imagine I’m impossible.