ODE TO THE PARK

When you sit in the park
with your book of verse
and your cappuccino
and your solitude
as you look on at the happy loving couples
and think how much happier you are
you are lying
and more: you are a poseur.

You know you don’t want to be different
especially since you aren’t.
You belong to a different tribe
– a loser tribe –
if they would even have you
and since you sit alone
on your rock
gloomily staring at others,
they don’t,
poseur.

Drop the book
and pick up a girl
if you can find one
who will tolerate your pretensions
ad your smell
you frigging poseur.