Don't let the boa pollute

Every once in a while, I manage to pull off
an explanation deserving of applause. 
Regardless of reception, my heart warms internally whenever something is done.
I have validation from other streams;
this one can move cleanly on.

The scruffy guy in soccer shorts
tilts his head.  I admit-
from anyone else's tongue that wouldn't have made sense,
I would probably have hit them
then run away
because on my social self,
rules sparkle.

To explain well needs a change of clothes
and into strange outfits with white gloves
and a very, very low neckline.

I am comfortable, but
they look ridiculous on me. 

I strut with the sure step of a Madrigal square dancer
and then stammer like a backward handspring
but the judges came to see figure skating.

Sometimes, I ask myself whether it "matters" if nobody understands. 

Then I remember: 
I HATE not understanding!

PS:  Watermelon hats speckle.


-Citron