I am not that cool
Nor too cool to rap.
As my four digits are tapping a wood top
at a local bar.

I scan the large room
Two girls start laughing
A man talks to his gal and to his mama.
My ink is flowing.

A toast and clink
I smirk as music is drowning my sorrow.
I’m flying solo.

Solitary but not withdrawn.
Smiling, I began to yawn.

Contributor’s note: Today I needed some additional inspiration for a poem, so I asked my Twitter followers for some suggestions on a poem. The three suggestions were about being cool, rap and to write a poem using words that don’t have a letter E. I liked all three, so I used all three of these suggestions in this poem.