That was almost 48 hours ago. I found that poem immediately. I wrote it back in college, part of an assignment for creative writing. Take a list of seemingly randomly selected words and use as many as I could in a writing piece. I won't tell you what that list was, but I believe I used every single word.
So, back to the other part of my original comment. Do I know me? The current me has grown and mature, aged, etc. All the usual ways to describe it apply. Other life changes too, blog topics for another day. But for the moment, the million memories include trips down the literary lane. So I flipped though my old journals and found it, one of my favorites from writing in college.
In the Heat of Mockery
Do you remember your coffee house apparel
During the Summer of the Sunstroke?
The coat was long and dark and brooding,
Your sweater thick with wool
And perspiration steamed your obsidian glasses.
All too stifling, don’t you think?
Why were you there anyway?
I found you sipping black coffee.
The beans were always roasted too long for me.
Paltry pantry I have at home, you said -
But I remember now, you had your poetry -
Paltry poetry you had at the coffee house, I say.
What were those pitiful, prickly lines?
“I sat in the sun
plucking blue berries
from the mulberry bush.
But are mulberries really blue?”
And that other dried-up work you recited?
“Swarm to school,
lifeboat to the younger days.
But do not forget:
before you leave
center the pot on the stove
bought with moss-colored money.”
That was a stuffy piece.
I felt all stopped up in a dirty glass bottle,
Floating all day following the sun over the horizon.
I’m glad I left the coffee house early that day
So I would not hurt you feelings.
I’m sorry, but your poems are so ludicrous
I can’t help but laugh until I’m red
In the face, redder than a boiled lobster.
Hey, now that’s poetry!
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