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Dorian Hoppie
4-7-09
Poetry

Con

Hotel lobbies filled, loud, stagnant, awkward bodies
Running or sulking around the room, fleeing or tackling.
Bright or different costumes cover
A generation gone stale, months alone, transfixed.
Alone they are freaks, together, monsters, but no longer stale.
Awkward pause, conversations struggle, gain volume, or lack.

A conversation tries, stutters, and put putters off into
another hotel room stagnant with
more awkward auras put off by these monsters.
Clumps form to run around, then break off to form anew.
This generation found a way, adding its own flavor.
It isn't just the costume, the character

It's more, the costume shows a level of security,
The conversation could be said to be a component.
A new generation of awkward bodies made it.
They gather in hotel rooms, pay for them, to
Clump into one big mess, a mess that
emanates these awkward behaviors.

Behaviors that would stun the normies,
they wouldn't understand the costumes anyway.
The messes, the monster mess.
Conversations would stun them, amuse them,
Poor unaware souls gathered in the same hotel
watch in horror of this new generation.

Horror that runs through the monsters,
that fuels the behavior, other worldly.
In this other world, unaware normies rush away
not underdstanding, the costumes too bright
they are speechless, no conversations
nothing to do with these monsters.

The monsters that hide or sulk
Monsters that run and laugh
and strike up conversation quickly, loudly,
enjoying the otherworldly lobby.
They enjoy their costumes, their success,
Unaware of the normal world outside.

Outside the normal world, in this otherworldly lobby,
Awkward monsters run to mingle, to share fandom.
They gawk loudly or mumble, migrating throughout their little generations niche.