“It's pity”

I arrive to the party,
alone,
where everyone seems
to have come
with someone.
I look at the ladies
and they all look so
good.
Each of them
in their own party
dress.
"Pick me," I think.
"Pick me."
I was never a leader
in Phys Ed;
always the last
chosen for teams.
It's a joke
nobody has ever
believed
in these talents.
"But you have the hands
of an artist,"
she reminds me.
It's pity at this party;
it's pity as I leave
to walk myself to the bus
stop, alone.

narrative poem written on 04-17-2017 by: on mattkane.com
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