One Lesson (or how I pretend to write poetry)

I watched three hours of slam poetry
on Tuesday in hopes of finding inspiration.
I watch mesmerized as my stories dripped
off strangers lips and these angels of elequence
tear open my soul for only my dog to see.
What can I say in the face of that?
I know nothing of passion or honesty.
In truth,
Life has only taught me one lesson.

Life has only taught me one lesson:
He came in with a bow and a dinner jacket on
and said he was a present.
He asked if he could give me one thing
what would it be?
"A love poem."
He wrote about a barren land with a bone white tree
that dripped green poison off dead leaves.

Life has only taught me one lesson:
A tall skinny boy who kept all his conquests
mounted on his wall
told me to tell him a secret.
"I want to grow fins so I can swim away."
He didn't swim.  He walked.
I only meant I wanted to experience him like water through my gills.

Life has only taught me one lesson:
One night we watched the sky dance on the water.
Falling stars shot beneath the waves and whales breached
in the Northern Lights.
He never said anything.
But I decided that being in heaven
meant going to hell.

Life has only taught me one lesson:
We are outside playing cops and robbers.
Screams of "no no no no" echo through hollow walls and open windows.
An hour later,
As they check for black eyes and skinned knees
amongst the lilacs she whispers up to him,
"Why won't you hold me hand?"

And life has only taught me one lesson.