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Post by John Yamrus on Sept 6, 2007 11:38:08 GMT -5
i meet them everywhere
i'll be out somewhere maybe buying a coke or parking my car or looking through the racks at some bookstore,
trying to find something that won't bore me to tears,
and sooner or later they come up to me and say "don't you write?"
and i try to look interested and say "yeah, why?"
and they always answer "i saw you read last year.
i've got a couple of your books.
i really like 'em. i used to write a little myself, but i quit a long time ago."
it's always the same.
they're teachers or housewives or whatever and they write a little poetry because they all fell for that line about everyone having a book in them.
they all try it,
and they all end up giving it up...
except for me.
i don't know, maybe i'm too stupid to see the futility of it all,
or maybe i just hate the look of those mournful eyes and those pinched, expectant faces, trying to see if what's already eaten them will one day do its work on me.
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