plays at the right volume for me
to ignore the dull conversation around me
and rather be mesmerized by the music
coming from unknown speakers
in the walls and ceilings of this white people palace.
I don't want to be here,
but the free food and the music are nice,
even though a woman in red,
who looks as old as a grandmother,
but is probably my age,
confidently mistakes it as Beethoven.
even charity is selfish
and none of these people will admit it,
so I do my "little poetry recitation"
and fill up on food and fake compliments,
before talking to the only black guy
in the place about basketball.
I can't wait to take these dress shoes off,
which makes me wonder why they don't make
dress shoes that are comfortable;
I don't mind the tux and feel confident in it,
but I wish I could've worn Jordan 1s instead,
yet that would've looked bad at a charity gala.
which brings me back
to the word Selfless being bandied about
in every self-serving speech from the podium pulpit,
talking about giving back (pennies from their millions),
but to these people charity is selfish
because they all but scream 'Look at me!'
I gotta get the fuck outta here,
and so after my set of basic bitch poems
about perseverance and generic passion,
I steal a whole tray of bacon-wrapped scallops,
give the only black guy a nod from the back,
get on my motorcycle and go sing karaoke alone.