My First Heartbreak: A Rhetorical Analysis
okay, so I was born
how did my parents choose my name?
when the Chinese doctor won the tug-of-
war with my mother's womb
they saw me for the first time
a crying ball of flesh and natal juices
glowing orb-like under fluorescent lights
did my father proclaim, "Yep, he's an Andrew, alright"?
not long after, I was thirteen
a couth brunette with a Yankee accent
broke my heart and didn't even know it
when she got with this spiky-haired
kid who took ritalin
I sat in a lawn chair beneath the pines
for forty-five minutes in disbelief
do all Andrews cope this way?
would an oak have provided greater fortitude?
and here I am now
Andrew (who?)
heart-mended (huh?)
no trees (if a tree fell in a forest and no one was around...)
strides past thirteen
still in disbelief (how could she?)
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