The Secret Life of Moles by P.V. LeForge
Written with a delightfully quirky perspective and a refreshing absence of the ordinary, these poems take familiar situations and turn them upside down. What is most surprising about them, however, is that in the end, reading them is like having a conversation with some secret part of yourself.
While others go to parties
or to the movies,
I stay home and sweat.
When people play hockey or tennis,
I sweat watching them.
I sweat on trains, in restaurants.
I sweat in blizzards.
My bed knows it,
so do my clothes;
but when I tell people this
they shy away.
Other people never seem to sweat.
their clothes remain dry
even on sweltering days,
even in rainstorms.
I put plastic mattress covers on my bed,
but the sweat still seeps through.
Women won't sleep with me.
They're afraid of waking up
I dream of sweating great torrents
that drown thousands.
It's a habit I can't break,
a cool vice for my hot skin.
My landlady gives me towels for Xmas
and tells me that mine is the only room
in the house not bothered by rats.
Here's my quandary: I want to be liked
but each time I dry my face
or put on a freshly laundered shirt,
my whole body starts to cry.