For today's challenge, Izy invites us to write a Document of Discussion, in which we "take memorable conversations with strangers, friends, family, etc. and memorialize them." This little oddity was a poem I wrote WAY back in 1979. I was 15, and wrote this after a conversation with my father about a book he had given me to read. I think it may have been Trout Fishing in America.
(Chomp. Chomp.)
Did you read the book I gave you last night?
Yeah.
(Chomp.)
What did you think of it?
What was the purpose of it?
(Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.)
Well?
What?
Why did he write it?
(Chomp. Chomp.)
People buy it.
(Interruption by a third party): You didn't answer her question.
What?
Why did he do it?
(Chomp.)
To write.
But why did he write that?
(Chomp. Chomp.)
It was contemporary, wasn't it?
Yeah. What did it prove?
(Chomp. Chomp.)
It didn't prove anything.
But what was the meaning of it?
(Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.)
It was weird, wasn't it?
Yeah.
(Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.)
Good pizza.
I liked it.
(Chomp. Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.)
submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Out of Standard With Izy, Document of Discussion
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Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen
Showing posts with label life with father. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life with father. Show all posts
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