Monday, September 29, 2014

poem of the day 09.29.14

the ghost of bugs bunny

he had two rabbit teeth
carried a tattered suitcase
and hung around the reading room
in the library with the other bums

we saw each other on my smoke breaks
occasionally i’d let him bum one

one afternoon i was outside playing at writer
with all of these poems scattered on the pavement
putting together a manuscript that no one
but one friend and my girlfriend would ever read

when he said, is that your life’s work?

sorta, i said

bugs bunny tapped his tattered suitcase
this is my life’s work, he said
poems, novels, short stories
thirty-six years of hard work

shit, i thought
there’s my future if i keep
at this grand larceny of my life and time

i started gathering the poems up off of the ground
i wondered if the banks were hiring

he said, never give up
never give up is my motto

okay, i said
because quit and quit hard was mine

i put all of the poems in my bag
i planned on the ritual burning at midnight

you gotta have a dream, he said
he tapped his suitcase again

and i thought about
the thousands upon thousands
of unread words farted
on all of that yellow paper

i gave him a smoke
without his even asking

then i went back inside the library
intent on finding something else to kill the hours with

but i never did

and i never saw
that old word slinger again.


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