#7 Love Against a Photocopier

Inspired by

Poem #1101

'The Incident in Ryman's' (by Tim Key)

Chris hadn't seen Tania for about three years

when they bumped into each other in

Ryman's and he forgot her name.

This was very embarrassing, to say the least.

But, typically, Chris talked his way out

of trouble.

And soon he was fucking her against a fax

machine that also photocopied.

Love Against a Photocopier

Some don't like their poetry with fucking

in it. Their words are beetles behind glass

wordplay dance, strict form trance, something lacking

in it. No life, stilted, a poor man's farce.

They're writing, not believing, there's no U

in it. I'd rather fuck in Ryman's than

Milton's cottage. Just a gun with no glue

in it. Poems are not supposed to stand.

Chris and Tania can't write sonnets. No love

for it. To busy fucking, forgetting

sweating up and needing, to lust, or shove

for it. It's still love, however fleeting!

Poetry is not just feet and meter

it's love, against a photocopier.

OW