Halcyon

it is just a theory

small town, big people,
right questions, wrong answers,
prejudices and biases,
revelry and politics.
oh, that sad girl right there
is pretty when she laughs.
oh, really? so, here is a theory:
why not ask her out?
let's have some fun, then.
talk to her, make her feel important,
then throw her heart and
stomp it to pieces
aren't we all looking for merriment?

jungian crisis, intolerances,
lowered inhibitions, plastic smiles,
clapping at the incisions, wow,
we put her up on a pedestal—
oh, but she is not worth it.
the other girls are prettier,
easier, and cuter.
oh, sure. so here is a theory:
every man wants a smart girl
until it is his own girlfriend,
questioning his misogynistic jokes,
burying his anti-feminist quips
just to sprout later,
and then neatly slash
her with a paper knife.

insecurities and whispers,
sagas and fictions,
cheering at the girl getting
cancelled for her feminism.
oh, don't we just love it?
we sure do. so, here is a theory:
the smarter girls are stupider—
ridiculing their big glasses,
asking your bitches
to surround you, until
she realises her place
in this godforsaken world,
and just quits being
pretty, and turns into
a sad, sad girl.

well, i told ya—
it is just a theory.