I’m easily embarrassed.
I tend to blush a lot;
Except, I’m fifty-three,
I should have gotten over this —
I do not like attention,
And I would rather not
Be placed in situations full
Of my self-consciousness
I’m awkward and ungainly,
My hands are way too large;
If still an adolescent, this
Would make a lot more sense —
But I’m passed middle age, it’s just
Ridiculous by now:
That others mere proximity
Can make me so damned
Tense
