Poem: Mensa Men

You’re proud of yourself. Holding your head high.

The space underneath you invisible to your shoes.

The next step you take. Ask yourself when the image fades.

The same song will repeat the next hour.

You’re holding onto the day too tight.

When the shapes dissolve, never to come back, you will hear that sound.

It’s the one that keeps you up at night.

It raises a glass to your blood pressure. Getting closer to the pounding edge.

You used to know what it felt like to be tired and low.

Sentences said under my breath now I say out loud.

You aren’t who I thought you’d be. High up in the loft.

Time to shut your mouth and open your ears.

No matter how many classes you took and drinks you made, it’s time to stop.

It isn’t nice to speak from the ass for too long.

Come to my level and call me average. It’s okay.

You don’t have to wait for the sign.