KURT

Kurt’s loose denim,

his sunglasses gleam.

It’ll always allude me,

we’re sitting together, but he’s outlying.

So much common ground.

Watching cartoons and Broadway at our house,

hard rock music - it’s our favourite sound,

but there’s nothing to talk about.

Still, I think he’s fly

a real fun guy.

He brightens the room

when our friends are there too.

Perhaps my walls are too high

for an impatient man to climb.

Maybe my envy tainted

Any chance of close friendship.

He rests his feet on

the boy I sit across from.

Our mutual twin, but

between us, Kurt wins.

What I would give

to know his bliss.