Poet Begging on Subway Car
by Jerry Ratch
The subway train pulled up and I shuffled on board.
I announced to the whole subway car: “I'm a poet.”
And that was all I needed to do. It was like a miracle.
Someone got up immediately and gave me her seat.
People got in an orderly line and began opening their wallets.
Dollar bills came fluttering out like moths.
One older gentleman offered to buy my book of poems,
Insisting on paying full price, plus tax. He added a tip.
Someone else gave me her sandwich.
Another her food stamps.
And finally, I struck the mother of all prizes,
Way better than the Nobel Award:
I was offered a room to sleep
At the Walt Whitman Rest Home for Poets.
And I realized it had all paid off, in spades,
And I was set for life, as I had hoped.
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YES!
;-)
*I* got on the subway once. "I am a writer of short stories," I proudly announced.
And they aaaaaaaall got up and moved away.
.....
(This is, very likely, the funniest thing I've ever read.)
As my 11 year-old might say, "In your dreams, man." Very good.*
In other news, you may have read yesterday that the punishment for writing a poem critical of the government of Qatar was reduced from life in prison to 15 years. They're getting soft on crime over there.
Can you tell me which subway stop that would be?
And which quarter is the best for begging?
I'm afraid to laff...I might not stop. *
Poets Rock!
This is great - perhaps too close to the bone ;) Very Paul Durcan-esque.
This is not a dream deferred but a dream conferred upon your readers. Thanks for the gift!
Thanks, Bill!
I like how almost all of the people who offer you things are women.*
Loved it! Oh, and sign me up for the sandwich & the Walt Whitman Rest Home for Poets.
Thank you, Ed!