The Brave Little Boaster That Could Poem by Duncan Standard

Severe storms have never scared me,
I don't fear being in a plane crash.
I'm not worried about being shot or stabbed,
There's no paranoia about car crashes or burglars or machete wielding killers that plan on killing everyone just directly after said everyones have relations and by that I mean have sex even though their friend is dead in a crate in a tree.
But I digress.
This story is about me.
Naturally.
I'm my favorite subject.
Or at least I was.
But sadly I can't even keep myself entertained for long.
But I digress from that digress.
Whatever I can do to make you laugh.
I would weather any storm,
Parachute out of every crashing plane,
Kick every bayoneted weapon wielding burgling killer of possibly satisfied lovers right square in his holstered weapon,
If that was what I,
Had,
To,
Do...
Wait,
That's really not saying much though is it?
How about this?
I would face my biggest fear.
No.
I,
Will,
Face my biggest fear.
Your face.
The idea that I could possibly one day see it with anything other than a smile.
The possibility that my arms might not be strong enough to hold onto you.
The chance that you will take a piece of me to go and leave me with a boom box and trench coat outside your window trying to order a goddess from the drive through.
Partially because I think it would be a good excuse to get a boom box.
Not to mention John Cusack.
Am I right?
Forgive my distractions among these digressions.
Back to the subject at hand.
Your hand.
And how badly I want to feel its fingers interlocked with mine across a board game as I hand you the dice.
It's your turn.
I rolled my dice,
I moved my piece,
Hoping you'll roll a six or one and move your piece from home so that I at least have a chance of running into your on the board.