Sometimes in order to avoid the completion of meaningful tasks, I think up titles for nonexistent poems. Here are my top picks from this week's purposeless moments:
POEMS:
"Didn't get the memo"
(for the guy on the corner of Nicollet and 46th, blue-lipped but spiting the 20-degree weather in his red Bermuda shorts)
"I Prefer Spin the Bottle to Russian Roulette"
(about STDs)
"Ode to Each of Us"
(damn the man)
"More of That Which we Need Least"
(hats off to the guy whose job it is to strip and repaint those innocent, yellow parking lot lines in front of the Wayzata Caribou because "this year's Excursion model just doesn't seem to fit in there")
Nary Repeat That Day Shall I"
(about getting hit by a car for not listening to your mother when she says "Look both ways.")
"Oedipus meets Tantalus"
(or..."Dude, do you think your mom will ever be single?")
"How is it Your Star Yet Flickers?"
(you know who you are)
"When But the Stem Remains"
(a historical fiction in verse about the ancient Aztec ballgame that would ultimately end with the beheading of its winners)
