The Fault In My Stars

Beautiful Zimbabwean Girls
P.C. Esnath Kombe

The world tilts a little,
My right hand inexorably shakes.
Clench my fists,
Hold on tightly to my bag pack.

The stench of rejection
Never gets old;
It thrives on defensive behavior.
I remind myself in a monologue.

But to come too close,
I can’t stand the implication.
Playing ball with my primal,
Remotely sedating my intellectual.

I can hear the gods,
Laughing as they zoom in.
I look up and frown,
I know they are tilting the scales.

But what if I create a universe?
Maybe a bot with sentience.
Or is it easier to just wipe my memory,
And start afresh?

After all, it’s just a girl,
So why drag the universe into this?
I can’t say, with a clean conscience,
That there is a universe without her.

By coming to stand close
To me like that,
She did to me what
Marissa Mayer did to Yahoo.

©HerbertUba 2017

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