Even More Crappy High School Poetry

The humiliation continues, verse by verse, as we sift through the poetic detritus of my high school years. For this installment, I subject you to yet another entry in an excruciating series of hacky romantic poems. That’s right, it’s another ridiculous “She” poem. As the third link in the seemingly unending chain of love bleats, it is uncreatively but rhymingly titled “She #3.” Take it away, much younger and slightly stupider me!

finally, some rhyming! in the title, at least

She #3

I run She walks We live
Alone – Behind – Apart –
A man A girl Two souls –
Afraid Of strength Two lives –
Of life And depth She walks
And death Of mind Behind –
And in- And soul I run
Between. Within. Alone.

My thoughts:

  • The major problem with this poem… how the heck do you read it? I mean, you can read it top-to-bottom, then left-to-right, as in “I run alone—a man afraid of life yada yada yada.” Or, you could also read it left-to-right, then top-to-bottom, as in “I run she walks we live alone—behind—apart—yada yada yada,” and it makes just as much sense.
  • Which is to say, none.
  • Got a little dash-happy there. Dash, young Price. Dash!
  • Oh, so I’m a man, but she’s a girl who walks behind me (subtext: where she belongs)? So not only was I a pseudo-romantic sucker, but I was also horribly sexist. And also kind of creepy. So I guess some things never change?
  • At least I portrayed myself as weak and fearful (pretty dead-on description of late-80s me), and “she” as strong and… uh… deep of soul?
  • Whatever that means?
  • Soul! Again with the soul! I just couldn’t let a poem go without referencing the soul, man.
  • The Soul Maneuver was such a hack move I did it twice: “Two souls.” Stay tuned for She #476: “Soul soul soul/Soul soul soul soul/Soul.”
  • Soul!
  • If I’m pining so hard for her, why do I keep running away? It seems that, back in the day, I fundamentally misunderstood how the whole thing was supposed to work.
  • What is between life and death, exactly? A coma? So this is a poem about being afraid of comas? Maybe she’s a deadly hit-girl working for the mob, and she’s going to put me in a coma? Somehow?
  • Actually, a poem about a deadly game of cat-and-mouse with a coma-inducing mafiosa… I have to say, that would be pretty friggin’ awesome.

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