Having read the poetry of Dennison
I hereby give up writing.
I turn eyes to the want ads in search of
new horizons or, at least, remuneration.
Here's a good one! "Night clerk needed at the Title Pawn.
Steady pay, plus benefits.
Applicant must know a Buick from a Yugo."
No one warns about the clientele, of course,
their clouded lives, their rumpled documents,
five hundred percent interest rates.
This is red-blooded usury, American as Haliburton pie.
The clients have no stomach for it, but I do.
"Stand on the line," I say, "to have your picture made.
Your first-born child, please, over this way."
Praise be to Dennison whose talent led me here.
I am a clerk, but sweet sang-froidness, Batman,
I'm damn well-suited to officiousness.
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Try reading Matt Dennison's collection 'Wedding Tree' without a frisson of doubt about your own abilities. Go on. Try.
Fave. Done there. Been that. That chapbook reader, I mean.
I kept hoping he'd, you know, be a hack. But now, the question hanging out there is, what will his friends and enemies say to this?
Nice.
Will you be needing an assistant? Willing to train in red-blooded usury. Winner of 2011 Haliburton pie back off. Or maybe put a hit on Dennison,
that's great! nicely done, gita.
Brilliant piece and fun to read. I love the "clouded lives." *
Substitute "Dickinson" for "Dennison" and it has its own runners outside the hothouse.
Wonderful poem either way.