Me

 They laugh at me—
they think I’m crazy.
I laugh at them—I think
they’re cretins.
They talk about parties,
sex, food—oh, there’s too much food
in their stories, son of a bitch!
What is worse, they, too, talk
about books they have never read
and writers they’ll never comprehend,
as if they have some inspiring,
exciting truths to tell—well,
they bore me to death,
son of a bitch.
I, a poet (in his own right),
should be glad I’m not
one of them.