Oh, It Was Absurd

I came across this photo of Bette and Joan today. And, after reading a few creativity-related articles online, this cheeky, if not slightly bellicose poem materialized. It felt good to put something with a little more edge on paper after completing a rather sad short story yesterday. I've written two stories now in the past few weeks. I still haven't started the monster edits on 'Sillyheart' yet but they are coming. So are the stories. If they are coming, I'm going to write them. There's no rush, right?

So, the poem:

Oh, It Was Absurd

Oh, it was absurd that time when I slid across

the polished floor boards of my old house in my

sock feet and slapped her across the face with an

old back issue of the Vasser Quarterly. Thwack!

I’m ashamed to say I tried to apologize with a

note composed in my childish handwriting but

it was not received as warmly as it was written.

Oh, it was absurd the way she tried to discredit

me in front of all of our friends accusing me of

being the cause of propaganda poems, posturing.

She got two thirds of the way through her cruel

and disparaging diatribe while on speaker phone.

I don’t know what it was the tone of her snooty

voice or the cock of her big bonce whatever it

was made the last straw in me snap and so I swiftly

swatted her in the most knee-jerk inimical manner.

Her haughty jowls stretched into a shocked mask –

oh, it was absurd. I’d take it all back in a heartbeat

but the expression on her face was priceless.

***

Ready for a little sunshine on my face. I welcome today's commute home just for that.

In propinquity,

Nic