Poetry Is Stupid - Poem by Brian Mayo
“You haven’t been there for two years! ” she complained.
The tapping foot meant she was a live grenade, so I took my time before answering.
She stood in the doorway, one hand on her hip.
She was wearing a lime green dress, and looked like a teapot, ready to boil.
I poured a shot of whiskey in my coffee and used the remote to pause the game.
I turned my head, giving her my full attention. “Honey, it’s not that I don’t like your parents, but you know damn-well… I told you I was never going back to that house.”
“But, why? ” she whined. “Mom’s always asking me when you’re coming over! ”
“And your dad...? ”
She faltered, “Well....”
I nodded. “Exactly.”
“Just ‘cause he didn’t like your book? ”
I fished around in my shirt pocket for a cigarette and began looking for my lighter.
I found it buried it the cushions.
“If it wasn’t for that book we’d still be living in their basement.” I replied.
“I know, I know! But I can’t help it if he thinks poetry is stupid! ” she blurted.
I looked at her innocently. “And what do YOU think? ”
I applied flame to my cigarette, giving her time to formulate an answer.
“I, um, I love your poems, Brian, you know that.”
“Do you? Do you really? ”
“Well...some of them. MOST of them...” she added hastily.
I smiled thinly and turned the game back on.
“Tell your mom I said hi.”
I took a drink of coffee and swore softly.
The Lions were getting their butts handed to them.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about Poetry Is Stupid by Brian Mayo
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe