Happily Never After

When I was young-well, younger than I am now- I took a Creative Writing course at a local college. I fancied myself a master of prose. I was told I made an awesome poet. Only I didn’t want to be a poet, awesome or not. I would hand in these amazing, alliterated, all encompassing short stories…only to get them back smarting and oozing red, where the prof thought I should make a stanza break. I rebelled. I refused.

As much of my life has been about rebelling and/or refusing. Rebelling against familial ideals and obligations. Refusing to believe that which has come to pass has actually come to pass. Perhaps I should write a poem about it. I digress. I still don’t “do” poems.