The Great Pretender

You gave me a new reason to break my legs in half. A new reason to bend over backwards and jump rope until infinity. You made me feel special--until you didn't.

You taught me how to be a liar. And for that, I am eternally grateful. Now I know all the expressions. And I keep them here--in my back pocket.

You reminded me of the importance of superficiality. From you I taught myself peripheral vision. How to go along with the crowd, how to be your center of attention--knowing all along without any semblance of eye contact.

You taught me how to turn my back on someone. And forget about it within minutes. And how to appreciate that medicine they told me would let me think less of you--and it did just that.

You were the reason I learned how to frown. And all I really wanted to tell you was that you were some teacher--that and that I no longer hated you.

But you were some kind of antidote. You were easy on the eyes, too. But you were a widower to the ghost. The ghost of everything I believed in you.

And me the stepping stool--now my pedestal.