You rubbed me wrong. I mean
rubbed the wrong way.
You rubbed me the wrong way.
And me I know, I know
I rubbed you the wrong way.
Way wrong.
All wrong the rubbing.
Two-way wrong rubs.
Along the rubbing way.
We belong in this club.
Our rough edge exposed.
I will protect yours
with awareness of mine.
Glenn McKee, Hardwick
This poem was written for the Verse-Village celebration of April Poetry Month.
