Often Tickled Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

I feel you watching closely.
And ready to poke.
As if my presence,
Is under your microscope.

Too familiar have I been,
To those toothy grins zeroing in...
With needles and pins.
Attempting to prick,
What is perceived thick skin!
To judge if I am human.
Or if I can take what I am given...
Like a cushion that sits.
Without a feeling connected to it.

And if I should let critique,
Show it bothers me?
I'd be perceived as sensitive.
Like most 'creative' types are thought to be.

'And...
You're not? '

No.
Not necessarily.
But I do admit,
I am often tickled.
By displays of thoughtlessness.
And In public I laugh.
Sometimes in private I giggle.
Since the attention I'm given,
Validates some success.

And doing 'something' with longevity?
That achieves the curiosity from others I get?
I can't help but feel both blessed and amused.
Since I love to tease those who probe,
Who believe I'm easy to disturb and upset.