Argument With A Poet
As he studied my attention
I refused to blink. He told me things about my-
self I tried to keep hidden under a coffee stained
American Eagle sweat shirt
that found me on the Clearance rack.
I told him to fuck off! But he continued
to weave his words through my intelligence.
He was such an inspired bastard; cruelty
bunched together in fifty-seven pages
of brilliance.
There was no winning against his intellectual
abuse. So I let him have the last word.
I closed the book.
© 2010
Tarringo T. Vaughan
Beyond Rainbows & Yellow Brick Roads
