A Poem for December

Type-N

You’ve heard of Type-A.
They’ve got it wired
and will take the world by storm.

As for me,
over-achievement is shadowed
by perpetual self-doubt.

I am not Type-A. Sometimes,
all I want is to crawl
into a hole and be left

A-lone.
I have come to realize
I may be Type-N.

All my socks have holes in them
and there are old crackers
in my cupboard.

Left to my own devices,
I forget to eat breakfast.
I’m afraid to be the best

at anything. Most telling,
the N-key on my laptop
has rubbed off.

Either I type a lot of N-words:
no, never, narrow
nefarious, ninny

or I need to remember
to clip my right index fingernail
more often.