ManicDDaily

Grrr....

I guess I’ve not been in the best mood lately.  This 12th poem draft seems to be evidence of that.  (Lesson of the day–writing can be a way to vent your feelings!)

Cheater

When someone cheats me, or worse,
cheats my friend, one for whom
I’ve stood in, stood up, I understand the mind
of the stalker.

I want to call the cheater, anonymously, at
whatever time he grins, and hiss
imprecations of punishment,
both divine and karmic.   I want
to seek out his car and smear something
on the glass that will dry hard and
impenetrable—tomato paste,
shellac, maybe sardines–
spelling out some simple
characterization like “this guy
is a big fat cheat,” or
“smells like dead fish.”

I want to picture him
rattled, spilling large mugs of coffee
over a beige shag rug.
(A part of me wants to imagine him
stumbling with borscht, only anti-oxident,
wonderful beets are
just too good for the likes of him.)

Speaking of beets, I’d like to beat him, only not
in the flesh, but in the mind, in a re-make of
that money game we’ve just concluded (or he and
my “friend”), only this time I’d bargain him down
to a pinhead, a place from which he would truly beg, at which point,
I would gladly extend largess; I’d be absolutely
generous, a softie all over again, happy
to show him, at last, how these things should be done.