a poem by Paul Hostovsky

Confessional Poem

People say they love my honesty, but honestly,
I'm a liar and a thief. I would steal your mother
and help you look for her. What was she wearing?
Large breasts or small? Truly, I have a prurient
bent. I sometimes incline towards pure prurience.
But at least I'm honest about it. I am up front
at the adult movie theater. I'm in the first row
where there's nothing between me and these
fine actors, some of whom are really very fine--
I mean they're so convincing, I believe they are
in love. I believe I am in love. I mean that's how
good they are. But me, I'm not a good person. I would
pocket your twenty if I found it on the floor of
your car. I would borrow your car without asking you.
I would steal your line and put it in my poem without
crediting you. I would sleep with your mother
if she were good looking enough and willing. Honestly,
I am not an honest person and this poem is not
an honest poem. It expresses feelings and beliefs that
I have never felt or entertained. It's a sad day when
someone like you lets someone like me get away
with something like this. What were you thinking?

© by Paul Hostovsky

 
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #10 ~ July 2010