Dances with wolves
If this timeshare were a song,
it'd be Gottschalk’s “Bamboula.”
why being surrounded by people sipping their minds into blurriness
has always had that same intoxicating effect on me.
Measuring sugar with a teaspoon,
how everyone is as transparent as the lemonade
I clutch in my claw like hand. My father isn’t around
to whisper-yell, “Remember The Book!” (which is
Dale Carnegie’s critically acclaimed
self-help book, and although it’s
widely regarded as his magnum opus,
it's certainly had no influence on mine)
but he’d be proud to observe
that I am inclined to excessive commentary
whether it is wanted or not
and this trait dates back as far
as I can remember, even before
fourth grade, when I read about how
wolves are highly misunderstood creatures, and
not nearly as evil, or niggardly, or big and bad
as Prokofiev portrayed them to be.
It is with this that I assure the reader
that I’m not implying any sort of
malevolence on my part when I call myself
a wolf in sheep's clothing.
I am coming closer to finding why I,
for the life of me, can’t master the art of
winning friends and influencing people
Anastasia Nicholas is sixteen years old and attends North Royalton High School. An avid reader and writer, she has been published in Inkwell Magazine and is the editor of her school newspaper. She hopes to become a journalist in the future.