4.02.2006

38-restored!

Incident on Forty-Third Street


I sat reading the slush, because the Cheese said to, although I know little about poetry: mine not to reason why, mine to muddle through until something better opens up, something with an office not built with stacked envelopes, something with the roar of the greasepaint, the smell of the crowd, not the roar of radiators and the smell of ...rejection. A noise, then a man wearing a long black overcoat stood at my desk.

I stared at his S&W .38 detective special, nickel. A nice piece, and one that would paste much of me across the stacked manila, giving rise to far too many letters of apology about the blood and brains, etc. Form letters, of course, but still, the Cheese would not like it. "Yes?"

"I want justice, Galleycat."

Well, we were fresh out, but I obviously couldn't say so. He raised his aim from my heart to my right eye. "An answer. Why you reject ...my work. When what you do publish is so...drivel."

I stared. I never crit, ever. And at gunpoint? "Um, I'd have to see it. Couldn't possibly--" But he was already reaching for it. Out came a trifold sheaf, vibrating as he held it out.

I feared those papers more than the gun. But I took them. I forced my eyes down. My bunion began to throb, along with every tooth in my head. I saw this:



The Parade of Life



The promenading poodles pass

and we, like terrapins enwalled in glass,

with our will of the wisp of wilted greens

rusting as curly kings and queens

display their tams and fancy collars

to a world gone mad with sex and dollars,

we, the people, must protest;

I sing the body dispossessed.



And on, fifty stanzas. I grabbed a straw. "Well, it rhymes, for one thing. Very little”

"Poetry rhymes." Twitch.

"And it's...sociopolitical. We don't do--"

"You should." He looked at the gun. A man with a plan.

"Not really. It's generic--we don‚t do generic." I knew it was nuts to reason with him, but what else could I do? "It's of a kind. Any kind."

"I know what generic means."

"Like, "Your mother wears army boots"," I knew I shouldn't hand him any snark, but I was feeling giddy.

"Combat boots. Your mother wears combat boots."

"Combat boots, then. Your mother wears combat boots. It's generic. Not personal. We do personal." This was like Bat Segundo with our hero a bit too deep in the Gray Goose.

"Oh, but you do." He put the barrel to my forehead.

"Not so far," I said. "Besides, it sucks. And here, it can't suck." I held my breath, rolled up my eyes, saw the shock register, waited for the lead reply.

But suddenly he was crying. He put the gun down, covered his face with both hands.

I grabbed it, jumped to my feet. Then I put three into the manuscript.


Miss Snark retrieved the missing last page...the mice were at the Cheese to do so.
Order restored, firearms at the ready,
scores to come



18 comments:

Andrea Blythe said...

I Love this one. Definitely the best of what I've read.

Andrea Blythe said...

This is my favorite, by far, of all the ones I have read.

Anonymous said...

At last, a poem I can understand...almost.

Anonymous said...

I am not the author of this one, but I saw it post, then disappear, then repost with over a hundred words missing. What happened to the rest?! This entry contains a shooting which is hilarious. Censorship! I demand Snarkisfaction!

JLB said...

Oh, most excellent! I love the poetry insert!!! I'm certain that Whitman would approve.

Anonymous said...

A nod to The Boss, yes? It's one of my favorite songs, too!

JLB said...

Thanks for the restoration! It was grand even sans dénouement, but I am so glad not to have missed the finale!

(Thanks for speaking up anonymous II.)

Corn Dog said...

The BEST, so far...

Anonymous said...

We thank you from behind becalmed whiskers. We couldn't live with ourselves knowing that manuscript may have survived, even fictively. The mice rejoice (snarkastically)!

I.J.Parker said...

Yup, this one is a good one! Thank God. (Not that I read the rest.) :) Go ahead and pick this one and let's get on with the regular stuff.

Minge said...

Existentialism?

California Jackson said...

Oh, I love this. Very wry. "Lead reply?" LOL.

Greta LaGarbeaux said...

Yeah, me too. So clever, so tidy, so, so, so ... aw, heck, I just lurved me this tale.

Jeff Stehman said...

I like the situation, but the story doesn't work for me...until that last line. I love the last line.

Nightfahl said...

lol Love the poem :)

Miss Audrey said...

I loved the poem and the last line was classic!

melanie said...

Haha. Shooting the manuscript was priceless.

melanie said...
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