by Robert Jevne
Wiping my mouth and chin, I explained my inspiration problem to Randy. He was swirling an ice cube in his mouth and the look of disgust he had aimed at my plate turned to me. “You have a shelf full of poetry. Did you ever think of cracking one of those books open? Or is Google your preferred muse now?” He swirled the ice cube in a way which I suppose was meant to be meaningful. I knew he would be jealous, but for crying out loud, Google is so easy. Have you ever tried to research a poetic topic without it? I vaguely remembered something from William Carlos Williams about him eating all the plums in the refrigerator and how delicious they were but I couldn’t remember the title or first line so in the three volume collection I found nothing but an empty bowl where the plums used to be. But just Google “plums and Williams” and voila. And I’m not supposed to use a tool like that? But still I felt cheap and besides the poem mentions breakfast, not lunch. Randy kept eyeing me coldly and swirling that damn cube menacingly. I knew he was circling in for the kill. Why did I ever think this was going to work. “Well, I guess if you’re desperate,” he continued, “you could write about me. I’m interesting.” And he bit down so hard on the cube it sounded as if he were crushing his own teeth. Then he smiled icily.
Dreaming Life Cereal - Tapping the slipstream, once and awhile... Company Harbor Star is not responsible for, and expressly disclaims all liability for, damages of any kind arisi...
1 year ago