Bad Poetry

Hello           , she said, as she waved me in.

The name sailed by my ears,

and almost flew on by,

out the door and down the hall.

But instead, the sound stopped

and tapped at my eardrums.

          ? My jaw fell. My heart stuttered.

My feet stopped and started and stopped again.

For one moment, I stared at her.

I thought about saying something,

anything, about her behavior.

She'd shortened my name without asking me

if it would be okay.

I don't call her by her truncated name,

even though I know her friends do.

And that word says it all: friend.

She is not my friend, and she never will be,

since she asks too much from me

and gives nothing in return.

So while I will allow others to use

a nickname or a pet name for me,

it's because I invite them to do so.

That one? She'll never know the real me

so she doesn't get the privilege of 

shortening my name without my permission.

And so next time, if she pulls the same stunt,

I'll be prepared to correct her.