he's a genius

 

 

i sit

in the corner

of the coffee house

with paper and pen

 

talking to myself

 

"write something, you

asshole! where is the

poem?"

 

then to the

air,

 

"give me my poem,

god damn you!"

 

people are looking

at me as if i am

a genius

 

i put the pen

into my mouth

and the ink

leaks out

 

i begin dabbing

the paper on my

tongue

 

blue angry

splotches

 

"look there," says

one of them in the crowd,

"he's writing!

 

he's got one!"

 

they gather around

but nobody notices

 

i farted.

 

 

 

-- miller