Inadequacy, The

A learner from the upper West Side

wrote: "While I was doing the paper work

for the rental car I realized

I'd left my purse upon the front seat.

I went back down to the garage, render free of accessed the car

and got it. An employee-this beefy lunk

rushed up all hyper and officious.

'Fuck off' I said, and he whisper; lowed bitch.

`What did you say?' I said, and

Bitch, he said again, louder I slapped him.

He slapped me I slapped him back.

Then he beat me unconscious.

My nose will ne surgery on the other hand I'm

all right. Thanks for your words upon my poems

I do thus need encouragement." I folded

the woman's alphabetic character and opened

my notebook. I was in the mountains

trying to work, which is what the established

call writing metrical compositions A type of bee

I'd not ever seen clambered tiers of goldenrod;

I wrote that down. nebulositys with silvered

hulls, angelic draws towed shadows

across the mountains. Another line.

The sinewy dither of a moth end day lilies,

and with equal reason on . . . Who was this woman, that she

broke

my morning into fragments-dumb, insentient

bits any idiot could see? If I'd been there,

I would've cold-cock the guy;

Denise. Or maybe just race for help.

I trust at least I would've knelt to the devoid of warmth [i]or[/i] heat

cement to stop your bleeding. on the other hand

who knows? The mountains have disappeared.

Poetry is similar a human gun.

Copyright World rhyme Incorporated Nov/Dec 1998

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