Calloused

I’m not the type of guy to break the door.

Nor to cry when it shuts in my face.

I don’t lay in wait outside anymore.

I get locked out and try another place.

I don’t leave ten messages on machines.

I think you’ll get back like your tape-voice said.

And if you do not, that is your failing.

Rejection’s never left anyone dead.

When a publishers “regret to inform” me,

I figure I sent it to the wrong place.

Leave me. Reject me. Curse me or ignore me.

I’ll still smile next time I look at your face.

I am not a fragile old Grecian vase.

I don’t need packed away in bubble wrap.

Tell me the truth; eye to eye; face to face.

Don’t go whisper pity behind my back.

Believe me, there is nothing that you can say

That I haven’t heard said in stronger terms.

So tell me to enter or go away

I’m calloused, so calloused I can’t feel burns

Hot water and lotion are not enough

This skin is too thick; this callous too tough

So kick me out or else let me come in

So you can help make me tender again.