before i became conscious of what it meant
to be an introvert, i thought i was defective
in my thirst for solitude. no one taught me
that withdrawing from crowds at times
could foster renewal, allow me to be
my best self around others. that my
aptitude for imagination
could be inspiring instead of isolating.
now grown-up, client-facing, i’ve come
to discover the importance of passing
for extroverted, of turning on charm
like a faucet. i’ve developed a rote list
of safe small talk topics —
wives, weekends, weather
i feed the beast with empty buzzings
during meetings, loathing myself
with every use of the word “absolutely”
somehow this has all manifested
in a gracious if quiet reputation
one where i am unironically referenced
as a leader and mentor
still i continue to stick out my tongue
in hopes of catching alone time,
raindrops in a desert