poem, poem, poem, poem

fellow I know,
almost all his poems are about writing
poems.
it’s easy, it’s like a grocery
list:
I haven’t written a poem in 3
weeks.
today I wrote a poem.
she came by and I rolled up the
poem and stuck it between
her legs.
but she wanted drugs.
I sat and typed while she
complained.
I put on the record player and
typed.
she called me selfish and
slammed the door and
left.
some of my poems came back
today.
some editor asshole
is jealous of my
writing.
I got up and fed the fish and
boiled an
egg.
then I came back and ripped
the sheet out of the typer
and then I wrote
this.
a poem.
that’s all there
is
now.
this poem.
she’s gone.
she’s mad.
she wanted drugs.
she called me
selfish.
fuck her.