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spinal tap (these go to eleven…)

she hounded me
with the tenacity
of a pit bull

stopping short
of stepping on my hemline
at a dinner party

to pin me down as to my opinion of her poetry

i had avoided the question artfully for years
wondering why
she so desperately sought my validation
and if she had to cut herself
to feel something
while self-promoting so shamelessly

i don’t do that
i explained
art is a learning process
critiquing makes me feel snobby
and i’m not so
please stop

but with every poem foist upon me
i was less able to contain my rage
at her flagrant ensemble
of a poseur’s beret
paired painfully
alongside mediocrity

so that night i dispensed
with platitudes and pleasantries

explaining to her
i thought her work
had all the depth and originality
of a tv dinner &
she was good at being bad
loudly

8 replies on “spinal tap (these go to eleven…)”

I think you may have let her off easily.

Now, please comment on my incredible writing, immediately, with full and wholesome feedback. I am the best fiction writer in this nuthouse; discuss. An hypothesis has been put forward.

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