It's nearly 9:30, Dave's back from a trip, and I just realized that I'm supposed to write a poem. What have I been doing all day? Nothing. Not writing poems, anyway.
Today we're supposed to write a poem about being in the middle of a something.
*
Middle of the Action
So I'm sitting in the cellphone lot of the airport
waiting for Dave's plane to land so I can pick him up
when I realize that I haven't written a poem,
it's nearly nine and I'm in the middle of a game of
Candy Crush, and I haven't written a poem.
I try to dictate a poem into my phone and it
just keeps typing strange things. For instance,
it doesn't want to type the word "poem." And
the way things are going right now, I can't remember
what it was it wanted to type instead. Now it's time
to get all of the family news that I've missed. We're
all in the middle of some involved stories, the endings
of which could go either way. At this point, I'm hoping
we're not headed for a climax or crisis point, and instead
are just looking at the rising tension of a scene.
Most poems end in some sort of conclusion -- perhaps
an image or some epiphany that pulls everything together,
but this one is just going to
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