Not Going To Cleveland
I take off my jacket, it’s been a warm day
and the heat has followed me into the house.
I should be already on my way to Cleveland
to a poetry slam, I did promise half-heartedly,
but slamming poets means a headache
after a long drive.
There’s lead and gun smoke on my fingers.
should have washed them at the range,
but the fat-wise owner wanted to
about all the paperwork he has to do now.
He has a young feller who does
all the inventory and selling,
he on the other hand, just sits on a stool all day.
Sometimes he will stroke his grey bead
and fart, but mostly he just sits;
He could be a poet.
Poetry is an art-form. It’s good to keep
reminding myself of that,
otherwise I might get the idea
that it’s just about complaining,
ing about things most poets don’t understand,
like life in general, guns and of course
poetry.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2020
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