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 by 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.

.

.