I think I feel my stomach turn
to hear you from our seats;
but I cannot turn off my ears
to block your hurtful speech.
I wonder, have you any clue
just how much I despise
that vacuous, self-serving look
that comes into your eyes
whenever you begin to speak?
I doubt you understand
more than, at best, the rare odd word;
your tastes all run to bland.
You are my test of tolerance;
I struggle to contain
the pure disgust I feel each time
your mouth transmits your brain.
The bile you spew, the mindless drool
you parrot makes me ill;
I shudder to imagine
the size of your karma bill.
And yet, I cannot hate you;
I cannot take that course.
It costs me too much to maintain
dislike without remorse.
10 APR 2013
