wasting away the day tryna pass the time flippin some burgers shakin some fries pushin cars on thru my line when suddenly he appeared unexpected someone i could relate to unbeknown to me at the time just talkin some mess of im gorgeous and fine i ask him his name he says that its terrance although at the time I could swear it was clarence cant ask a second time at the risk of lookin stupid so instead i play it cool, and nod my head surely lookin like a fool now were playing the guessing game the size of his head no longer the same it seems to be getting bigger starts with that cockiness of "I know I got a babyface" then comes the bummer his age is 25 i think of pullin a movie stunt and handin him my 555 but with this one he's different something in his eyes so now we're down to the real thing Unexpected i hand him my true digits a day goes by he calls a week goes by still talking another passes and bad news hits the fan there's been a bit of trouble a delay in the process of getting to know one another not looking to take it to a serious level just aiming for that friendship one but still the process will be prolonged he gives me an address asks that i write the choice in my hand the decision simple to make distance doesn't end friendships so why should it stop one from starting i send him a letter worried that his hands, and it, dare not meet a week goes by when suddenly it appeared unexpected a letter plain and clear addressed to me from him a month goes by three letters exchanged when suddenly it arrived unexpected a pic message of his arrival cant wait to hear his voice again a day goes by before contact is reintiated now we're back to where we were where we're headed certainly unsure but ive taken something from this that the best things that happen have come to be unexpected
This is quite a nice little poem. I like it. It's a bit unpolisehed, I think. For example, you use 'unexpected' so much, it becomes expected. I wouls keep the first and second ones and dump the third and fourth, keeping the last. Also, some of the mataphors are a little out. For example, bad news doesn't 'hit the fan', it breaks, and shit hits the fan. I think this has potential. I liked the narrative voice and I would like to read more of your work. Don't take my criticism too harshly, I generally only comment on poems I actually like. Peace, A.
