Write, but no poetry

the note said and it seemed like she was yelling-no exclamation marks, underlining or hint of anger,but a red pen, really, I didn’t know we had one. I’m not sure why she has it in for poetry in general and mine specifically. Perhaps she was scared by Dr. Seuss as a child (the illustrations are pretty weird) or maybe it’s the concept of (emotionally!) undressing in public (not that shy about the regular undressing in public, mind you, she’s not a prude.) I think it’s the structure of poetry as much as anything.
It
does
stretch
down
pages
jagged and unattractive as a rusty saw. I likened it to the streets of Chicago. Crisp and linear until you get about one mile from the lake where they just start abruptly ending and, sure, you could keep going past the end of the street through the barriers into the water but you could drown and you would lose your car for sure. I just saying the streets in Chicago could be the same length if people would stop being so particular (about the drowning and cars.) I not saying it’s practical but neither is poetry, and I wonder now if that was her point.
I think growing up in Tucson, the whole concept of jaggedness as nature’s refusal to bend to the artificial structure that man attempts to place upon beauty (or traffic) is lost on her. Tucson is the largest city in the world without a natural occurring body of water (river, lake, sea) to disrupt the city planner’s perfect grid. It’s like waffles out here, and who doesn’t like waffles? Or like Venice for that matter without the obvious differences; Tucson’s much newer and less falling apart and all that, and that is a shame really.
And the water thing.
We could use wheeled gondolas here. I hear people love those. Taking them to and fro, poling them silently past xeroscaped (read hellscaped) yards in the noonday sun; shirtless, tawny youth yodeling Southwestern ballads that if you don’t listen even kind of sound Italian. I’ve seen worse business models lately and they were propelled by leverage, too.
I did that one for you, you know…
I’m still a little exhausted after travelling so far for that last joke, so I had a cigarette. I am trying to quit, which is fun-it kind of makes the whole smoking thing worthwhile. When I write, I smoke and she knows that and, well, you read the title.
And past cats, gondoling past cats everywhere; house cats, feral cats, bobcats, wildcats in every shrub, “tree”, behind every cactus and I think I know why! As the city developed, the natural predator (coyotes) where driven to the washes (read rivers without water-but DON’T BUILD YOUR HOUSE IN A WASH) and the outskirts. They were replaced by the only other predator (cats) content to live on lizards and skinny birds which the population must be throwing at them, hence, I have dubbed Tucson “The crazy cat lady of the Southwest.” It looks great on a t-shirt.
and kittens, too. There is nothing cuter in this world than watch a feral kitten stalk a grasshopper, pouncing on it with its velveteen paws of DEATH, only to have the grasshopper escape through those paws, the kitten then magically levitating it own height straight up from the shock.
And when it lands looking around to see it anything saw that (as it reconsiders its paws of death).
At this point I was going to make a painful segway (yeah, I know) into a rant about reincarnation
(if you must know, look at the last three words of the previous sentence- you’ll be happier if you don’t but I’ ll wait. Next time you’ll listen)but I still haven’t gotten to what I was planning to write (poetry) about: WabiSabi, a Japanese concept of objects growing more beautiful with time, use, and age. I would have drawn parallels to bluejeans, the steering wheel of my old car, the bust of Lincoln (the nose) in Springfield,Illinois (oh hell, they had to put it up out of reach because people kept rubbing the nose (really!) and it was wearing the bronze thin), my favorite garage shirt, an old wooden pen I used to write with, yada, yada, yada ending with an allegory about hearts, minds, and souls growing more beautiful with time, use, and age, and it would have looked as jagged and charming as the gap-toothed smile of a toddler but I think you get the idea anyway and I bet she’ll like it this way better…

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