Meeting of Essayist and Poet
I walked into a crowded room of
writers
busily buying bunches of books from
other writers.
Bumping me this way and that as they swished past,
and I said, “I feel like a rock in a
river.”
I made my way across the aisle
where a lady looked at me and asked,
“Are you a poet?” “Yes,” I answered.
“Why?”
“I could tell by what you said.”
“How would you say it?” I asked.
“I’m in the way,” she answered.
I said, “You must write nonfiction.”
She nodded. We laughed a writerly laugh.
1 comment:
:)
Heheh! This was great. Glad I clicked.
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