Learning to be Human
Ethan McKnight

I stretched my lips tight,
because that’s what the clerk did
when I bought Powerade.
I threw it away when my friends said
Gatorade was better.

Their words spill out
in a single breath,
but I always stutter,
choking on the air
that fills my lungs.
I don’t know how to cough it out,
so I laugh instead.

I learned how to cry
from watching a girl
get dumped in a park
but I don’t know when
I’m supposed to do it.

Most emotions I feel,
I borrowed from movies.
The rest are from books,
but I don’t know how they look,
so I can’t feel those.

I don’t think I’m good at this.
People must know how alien I am,
but that’s okay.
I’ll keep watching,
and maybe, if I try long enough,
I can be like them.