Issue
#8 

a poem by Puma Perl (2 of 3)

the visiting poet

the distinguished poet addressed the group.
he carried in his aura the customary tools--
sharp eyes, ironic hat, slight smirk, bad teeth.

what are you thinking right now, he barked,
pointing at the kid in the middle, going round
the circle, most people quirky, clever, funny, false.

tangerines, hula hoops, oppression, coffee…
my turn came. fucking. i didn't need to think
too hard, it's where my mind always wanders,

riding escalators, driving cars, pretending
to listen to cat/kid/sister stories, i revisit,
imagine, invent, breathe deeply and live

secretly in dark dimensions, never fully present.
fucking, he repeated, and i knew he'd hoped
the young wild haired full breasted girl might

have offered as provocative an answer, but she'd
softly whispered Puerto Rico and rolled her r's,
and her voluptuous friend had looked thoughtful

and claimed to be thinking of the Halloween parade.
the distinguished poet tried another exercise:
what did you do last night, he asked, lounging

against the desk, challenging us to interest him,
and everyone had gone somewhere cool, or
sheepishly admitted to getting trashed, passing

out on someone's couch, and when my turn came
i simply looked at him and everybody laughed,
even the distinguished poet, who turned out

to be more fun than he had originally appeared.
i told him so later that night, after we'd shared
cigarettes and special interests, secrets always

safe with me, i live in dark dimensions,
wherever i am, i'm somewhere else,
but present enough to know my own.

© by Puma Perl     previous poem     next poem     return to top 

Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #8 ~ March 2010