I’ve had to switch tables
at my café tonight
Some guy is
sitting, smoking, writing
at my lucky spot
And now the waiter
has come by
and is sweeping around
at my feet
apologizing
The waiter must realize
that immortal lines
are being laid down
on this page
and that the
slightest disturbance
from his broom
could alter the course
of American Literature…
Glancing back at the
man sitting there at my table
I’m angry
He’s working his pen
oblivious to my problem
he’s probably writing poems
Better than mine
I want to knock him out
But I can’t do that
it would make me a
hypocrite
You see
he’s given me
this poem
And the waiter
has bravely
though unwittingly
saved
American
Lit.
3 responses ↓
1 Cailleach | 13 Jun 2006
Nice one Rob! I like the way it comes back to itself at the end.
2 Robert Bruce | 13 Jun 2006
Well listen, somebody has to preserve the making of this stuff. We can’t be expected to write in our cars or at our desks.
Yeah, I had some fun with this one. You know, shows off my arrogance and self-importance…
3 Cailleach | 14 Jun 2006
You? Arrogant and self-important..? I like it ;¬)
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