Workshop

I thought about writing again,

but then I got a stomachache,

so I thought to hell with it;

besides,

what would it prove?

I really don’t care

to be psycho analyzed

by some middle-aged, mildly attractive,

poet wannabe named Diane,

searching for meaning in a poem

about women at the DMV,

scrutinizing every line to find political

and technical correctness,

I would buy her a drink however;

if I thought there wouldn't be a test

afterwards;

it is rather amusing though,

to find out that there really are

people out there attempting to learn

how to write this bullshit,

it makes me wonder if it’s poetry

they’re trying to master;

or life;

because I never saw any difference

between the two.

.

.