“poetry forever”

I remember the moment
I gave up
poetry forever.

Clicking through the
latest online issue
of a ‘zine,
looking for
my submission
like anyone seeks
their own face
first
in a group photo,
I stumbled across a poem
I’d written
that I didn’t remember writing.

It was clever, edgy, spritely, etc., dancing like a weapon-y
ballerina
sober on sunlight and pink socks.

I loved it
like anyone loves
their own kid
most
in a school play,
except
my poem was over there
and the one I thought I’d written was written by
someone else.

I didn’t need a DNA test to know
my words were
nothing
if some random asshole could Xerox
“my” madness
“my” fingerprints
“my” unique turds
so much
I thought they were mine.

So I walked away from
poetry forever,
it was easy,
I didn’t love anyone
and still don’t.

The gods had found a replacement
for a replacement
and now that that was settled
I could concentrate on my first love:
jerking off.

Trouble is, between poetry
and
jerking off

no one can tell the difference.

Which is fine,
there’s no money
in either.

 14 Jun 06 

 

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