Circle of embarrassment

She fills fat bags with awkward shame

from the times she couldn’t remember a name

an air kiss that missed a cheek and met a mouth

a sudden silence where her voice rang out…

her bags are full, heavy and round

remember that time he didn’t come around?

well, she she met him a few days after

and overcompensated with foolish laughter

her bags are groaning, fit to burst

with a curated collection of her very worst:

one Freudian slip loaded with meaning

caught in the mirror: smiling and preening

replying to her feet (spinach in someone’s teeth)

white shirt to work with a yellow bra underneath

sent a text about her boss, to her boss

and dabbed Vaporub instead of lip gloss

plus, she missed a chair and met the ground

congratulated someone who’d just got a bit round

got entangled in a handshake/hug and uh-oh a kiss

had a hand hanging in an unmet high-five since 2006

she tips the bags, there’s much cringe to throw

and she knows quite well, she’ll fill them tomorrow