Ruminations on Love & Fucking Poets- A.G. Synclair

Posted: January 9, 2011 in Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , ,


Ruminations on Love & Fucking Poets

I knew this girl

when I had that blue Camaro

when I hung copper wire out my bedroom window

to pick up far off jazz stations on my shortwave

before sex

could kill you.

 

she called herself

poet

 

so I fucked her

on the dirty bathroom floor

of a wood panelled fern bar

left over from the 1970’s.

 

the kind of place

where any dumb fucker could get laid

as long as you were clean

and bought Black Russians

for girls who would fuck guys

that would fuck girls like them.

 

which was better than not fucking

on a Saturday Night

 

when the world was cumming all over each other

and the only other option

was jerking off in the IHOP bathroom

or pancakes.

 

sometimes

I see her in front of the Haymarket

drinking coffee

selling homemade chapbooks

and broadsides

to old hippies.

 

someone told me

she got published

 

she got published

received a check for two-hundred dollars

and five contributor copies

of New Voices in Contemporary Poetry.

 

I’ve read her poetry
and just between you and me

I’m betting
New Voices in Contemporary Poetry

-like simple submission guidelines

cumming together

 

and love

is only
an illusion.

 

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Comments
  1. ag is the man! good shit

  2. Leeroy Berlin says:

    God
    damn. Now
    to change my pants.
    That is all.

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