Trampled by Good Ideas


(in response to The Insistence of Beauty)

    Dear Stephen:

    I can only hang onto the torn threads
    of your dirty bathrobe.
    Then I must dust the floor
    with my body.  At least the floor shines.

    Maybe someone will dance on the floor later,
    or play basketball,
    depending on the location
    of this fantasy tryst I’m dreaming up.

    I’ve given up dreams
    of joining the NBA of poetry long ago
    but if I’m lucky I may catch a glimpse
    of your face from the floor.  Who knows?

    Maybe talent rubs off from obeisance
    or from inhaling punctuation from your words.
    Nah.  Enough lying around eating humble pie.
    I need to finish your book.


~ by dianeklammer on May 8, 2013.

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