Zombies

I sit with a group of friends and it’s a marvelous night, with warm fuzzies. So, being the egotistical sap that I am, I decide to share with the fine folks – a poem, a couple of drabbles.

“Listen to this one!” I insist, projecting naive excitement. Jumping upon my imaginary stage, I read, all inflections properly placed, nuances bravely peeled away and . . . I wait for . . . nothing.

Hmm.

“How about this one?!” I chose a more understandable piece. A simpler story.

Blank faces, all - another Saturday-night round.

Feeling alien, closing my laptop, I rush home - and call a writer.