I wish I had a name that looked good
when it was written in blue icing
on a birthday cake.
The unsatisfying almost loop of the “j”
The long drawn out “a” sound that everyone
always tells me I say with an accent
and the rushed finale of a canceled
TV show that is the “k”
all because of that silent “e”
My name is not Jacob. It’s Jake.
I had a bus driver when I was in elementary school that only called me Jacob,
and at 6:30 A.M and 2:45 P.M everyday
I prayed that bitch would crash us all into a telephone pole
and “Jacob” would be hurled through the windshield and skid across the asphalt of the highway
because school buses don’t have seatbelts.
I told that story to a girl I was talking to
freshman year of high school. She said she was surprised someone like me
would think something like that.
I have always chameleoned myself to be like whoever I was around,
I have always wanted people to look at me, but not yet,
not until I have found a skin that I am actually comfortable in.
A girl that I didn’t know was sitting at a table with another girl
that I was acquaintances with at my graduation ceremony.
“Who is that guy?”
“It’s just Jake. Hey.”
Jake Price is a sophomore student at Susquehanna University. He spends most of his time reading his work to his cat, Raven, who has yet to give him any feedback. His poetry has been published in Rivercraft Magazine, Poet Lore Magazine, and Cream Scene Carnival.