I had a friend once. Or a “friend” as she liked to put it. But I'll give her a break on that one—I'm pretty sure she didn't know that quotes are not used to add emphasis to words. She loved to claim that if she could spend the rest of her life on a beach, she would. Reality check: we lived in the Midwest. No beaches—unless you count lake shores. Maybe this girl would make it to a beach once a year on spring break or something. But beach bum she was not.
Read Beach Bum
I'll admit I was angry with her when I wrote this. I wanted something snarky that intelligently made fun of her, but it didn't exactly come out that way. Instead, as you can clearly tell, I gave up at the end, pretty much like I did with our friendship. I regret the poem, but I certainly don't regret the distance we now keep.