You Can Count On My Return

(There’s no accounting for the bad poet inside me.)

My heart beats exponentially for you,
thump thump, thump thump,
endangering my pocket protector
whose pens shoot out like Cupid’s love arrows,
quick shooting and stabbing, tenderly all night.

Your two brown eyes, like seeing zeros
which I colored inside with a Ticonderoga No. 2 pencil,
do they see my compounding interest?
Baby, you can count on my return.
For, line upon line,
you arouse my calculation
like something my clients say they will keep track of day by day all year long but instead panic and do in one day at the last possible day.

Comments

Rick Rockhill said…
now that's talent. Working in "ticonderoga No 2 pencil" into a poem!
February 17, 2008
Sid Leavitt said…
Actuarially speaking, I loved it. But why so early? Well, I guess I should confess: I'm one of those who likes to wait until April 15.

And now, actually speaking, I did love it. Very clever.
February 18, 2008
P.L. Frederick said…
You did not find reading the poem to be taxing?
February 18, 2008
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

You're On My Mind, For $1,000

Image
It has not escaped me that I have a somewhat profuse forehead. Or rather, a fivehead. The “high forehead” was thought to be much attractive in the 15th through 16th centuries, when wealthy gentleladies plucked their way to highbrowed beauty. Admirers took note of the greater brainpan and refined intelligence. (“My, my. Look at thee fo’ead on that one. Hubba hubba.”) Alas, today we no longer live in the Middle Ages, those pox-filled days of easy beauty. Those of us left behind, showing proof of high intelligence as we do, need to make do. So.... One day, a dame with a dome has a bright idea: Advertising Revenue. Then an even better, more refined idea: But a genius idea needs geniuses to buy into it. That’s where you come in. For example, say you’re an overpaid advertising executive. You’re gearing up to promote a dentist, electronics giant, and/or hemorrhoid creme. Or household goods and Sea-Monkeys. I don’t need to explain to you the power of the visual medium. So, without further ado.
Read more

Anizo 100% Reality Mind

Image
“Anizo 100% Reality Mind.” What this means, I have no idea. A friend found it living in a vending machine on the street in China and brought it back to Boston for me. The one-inch tall yellow plastic guy (I think it’s a he) has a smile, a blue tear, a pair of hand holes, a growth atop his head pierced clean through, and, on his backside, a man getting squeezed between two lines that I hope do not represent butt cheeks. The warning printed on the paper insert commands, “Do not use as lifeguard equipment.” Anizo and I, we’re inseparable. Anizo 100% Reality Mind!
Read more