Dear Mrs. Booth,

You didn’t like me much

in high school choir. You 

thought I was lazy and 

believed me to be a slouch. 

You never knew how much 

I adored the wonderful music 

you chose.  The class,

so in awe of the other students. 

I adored everyone, except me.

 

I wanted to sing for you more than

you could know, though you did try,

you did. Once you looked right

at me astonished, up there

hidden away in the back row.

 

Only three of us sang alto

and first soprano in the choir.

One was already a soloist 

for you at recitals and such. 

That left two of us, she and I.  

 

You looked directly at me 

you knew, you knew! 

I looked away, I looked 

at the floor and I pointedly 

looked at her beside me.  

 

Please, please do not pick me,

Mrs. Booth. I mantra’d to you

over and over again and you 

did not pick me, thankfully

you picked her, but she knew too. 

 

So I’d like to apologize today

for my inadequacy in your eyes. For my lack

of gumption, my lack of ambition, and extreme

shyness, now there’s a name for it –

Aspergers Syndrome.