Poetry is an acquired taste.
You either love it, or you don't really understand it.
At first I didn't understand it,
When I heard the term "poet" my brain instantly pictured some hipster in a coffee shop writing about something completely mundane and silly, like how he spilled his $9 latte on his MacBook.
In other words,
I was a total idiot.
Fast forward a month or so.
I'm sitting in stand still traffic on a California express way, because my friend and I decided a last minute road trip to the beach sounded suuuuuper rad.
I'm trying to fix my makeup in the visor when she suddenly turns her radio up.
It was one of her hipster poetry stations that was saved to her spotify.
I tried not to roll my eyes. Oh how naive I had been.
The first poem that ever shook me to the very core was by Neil Hilborn.
When he began to recite his poem O.C.D. I was rendered speechless.
The way his words rang through the speakers took my breath away.
Raw emotion seeping from each phrase made me think he was actually in the car with us.
It felt as if speaking directly to me. Directly to my heart as lame as it sounds.
Listening with tears running down from my eyes, my freshly applied mascara was all for not.
I felt as if I had been sucker punched right in my chest.
Once he finished, my friend turned her speakers down.
She looked at me, a few tears glistening in her own eyes.
Quietly she asked "Do you understand now?"
I did.
I finally understood.
-A.
