March 31, 2009


It was an interesting way to put it, but I found some beauty in the intention.

As a nurse practitioner was heading out the door for surgery, she passed by the break room and stuck her head in. "Whatcha reading?" I turned the cover over and showed her the Bukowski title. "Just some poems," I told her.

"Ah," she said. "You read poetry, huh?" I nodded. "I bet you write poetry, too, don't you?" I looked up at her and laughed. "Yeah, I do..." "Yeah," she laughed back, "You look like you would write poems."

Bemused, I said, "Thanks a lot!" and asked her what that meant. I don't think I look the part of a 'typical' poet if there is such a thing- I imagine someone in the corner of a library or a slumped in an armchair at home. They would be sipping whiskey or something strong, and would alternately sob and sigh. They probably wear a cardigan buttoned up incorrectly, haphazardly.They would have terrible hair and worse teeth.

She explained because of the photos I've posted on Facebook, I seemed like "that kind of person." She went on to say it was a good thing and that she was jealous because she isn't like that. 

I replied, "Well, I am jealous that I am not driving your Porsche, so we're even." 

1 kind comments from you:

Dena said...

I'm jealous of You and her Porsche.

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