Gracie Von Antemeter
One o'clock in the morning,
we connect by phone,
Chicago to Boston. I tell you
about the ugly tomatoes I bought,
your in hysterics. Listen, I say,
they have a their own web site;
take them seriously.
We head to the fruit
while you read me a story,
it's about a poet, nabbed
by the cliche police.
You can hardly read;
I can hardly listen.
ROTFLOAO! We become certifiable
when Tom, Matt and Otto,
("The Authentic Grape Tomatoes") say hello.
I'm happy you had a good day
with your new screwdriver;
you're happy, and still laughing
about the ugly tomatoes. Somehow
we get from the perfectly round tomato,
(exploited and tasteless; engineered
by geeks and pushed over the top
by marketing geeks) that satisfy
everyone but the customer,
to my telling you, Wal-mart
has ripped the souls out of our towns.
You read me a poem. I read you a poem,
Franz Wright's "Publication Date" -
I get to my favorite line-
"A sparrow limps past on it's little crutch saying
I am Federico Garcia Lorca risen from the dead -."
and I'm gone again.
You solve a bump in your epic; I agree.
You read me another poem. We talk about our Kerouac trip
to Georgia. A late, late IM from my daughter
and I have to go; and you're ordering ugly tomatoes.
Good night, Gracie.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
