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everyadventure
02-10-2011, 12:02 PM
maybe today i will go off the deep end and finally lose it

it could happen in the grocery store
without warning, i will race down the cereal aisle
with my arm outstretched
and the boxes will topple like dominoes

the manager will corner me in the produce section
where i will stand, feet planted amongst the potatoes,
and pelt kumquats at his head
aiming for his pretentious mustache

perhaps it will happen at work
where i have been given access (the fools!)
to the school's intercom

my voice will echo through the halls,
bouncing off blue lockers
reverberating in tiled bathrooms:
"I want!
I need!
And if my demands aren't met,
I will tell these coddled brats
the truth about Santa Claus!"

the principal will bang on the glass
of the locked and barred door, begging
"what is it that you want?"
how should i know?

or maybe it will happen while i'm driving--
down Main Street, most likely--
and i will
STOP
in the middle of the intersection
calmly turning the key and locking the doors

horns will blare, cars will swerve
people will swear and brandish indignant middle fingers

eventually an officer will tap at my window
"ma'am? ma'am? unlock your door, ma'am."
but i will stare resolutely ahead
until they pick the lock
and drag me from my sensible sedan

maybe today i will go off the deep end
but
this is a poem, not a promise

PrinceMyshkin
02-10-2011, 12:59 PM
Not only have you found your sense of humour (ok it was there before but you've given it free rein) but you're employing line-breaks as if they were the best thing since miniature golf!

Couple of quibbles: blurting out the "truth" about Santa Claus doesn't really cut it. You need a more dangerously iconoclastic image. Similarly your "sensible sedan" is both bland (as it may be meant to be) but too generic: best specify "my Toyota Camry" or "Chevy Malibu" or any other model with as many distinguishing name tags as possible.

Hawkman
02-10-2011, 12:59 PM
This is great fun, the only serious quibble I have is with the "knowing" reference to the poem at the end. This, for me at least, diminishes the impact of the piece and creates an anticlimax. I have a minor problem with the presentation, lower case personal pronouns, erratic puntuation and capitalisation at the begining of lines, but these do not detract unduly from my overall enjoyment of a rollicking good read.

Thanks for sharing. Live long and prosper - H

hillwalker
02-10-2011, 01:02 PM
Very amusing - especially the treatment of the 'coddled brats' and your retreat into your 'sensible sedan'. A dangerous housewife indeed.

H

everyadventure
02-10-2011, 01:11 PM
Couple of quibbles: blurting out the "truth" about Santa Claus doesn't really cut it. You need a more dangerously iconoclastic image.

The only person more iconoclastic than Santa is Jesus... and even in EA's craziest moment, she wouldn't take things THAT far!

everyadventure
02-10-2011, 04:34 PM
Not happy with this one...

PrinceMyshkin
02-10-2011, 04:54 PM
To add to the wonderful spontaneity of this, you appear to be inaugurating what would be a fine tradition of intramural references, in this case to that marvelous poem by SarahDrago!

(Plus, your line-breaks are exemplary!)

Delta40
02-10-2011, 05:31 PM
I much prefer the second poem. I like its honesty and it isn't wearing a mask where the first is entertaining - which makes me think it isn't so funny after all and why hide it under humour so one is not taken seriously?

JuniperWoolf
02-10-2011, 08:25 PM
Your first poem, Kenny Hotz did that once. He parked his SUV in the exact middle of the busiest intersection in Toronto, parked, got out, locked the door and walked away. ****ing brilliant, it was a riot.

Jerrybaldy
02-11-2011, 08:29 PM
I smell repression

YesNo
02-11-2011, 08:54 PM
The only person more iconoclastic than Santa is Jesus... and even in EA's craziest moment, she wouldn't take things THAT far!

For the child, Santa and Jesus may be very close. I can't understand why parents tell their children these stories knowing they are not true.

When my children were little I used to pretend that Santa was coming to the door. I would ring the bell, with a bag already in my hand and say loudly to no one, "Thanks, Santa, for the presents!" The children would rush to the door, but they knew about Santa. Still they were wondering, I guess, what nonsense I was up to, how far off "the deep end" I would go this time--and what the presents might be.

Anyway, I liked the idea of considering losing it if only as a poem not a promise.