This place matters

This place matters

Thursday, August 10, 2017

The triumphant return

Okay, I realize it has been a stupid long time. We moved, you see, and then there was the two week grad school residency. And then there was all the unpacking and cleaning, and god these things look filthy now that we live in a place that light can reach. 
One of the speakers at my residency this year was the poet Dexter L Booth. Guy's amazing. And his talk was titled Of the Same Earth: Race, Poetry, and Absurdity in America. He talked about how often artists use absurdity to face the otherwise un-facable. He told us that the hyper-violence of old timey cartoon shows is a product of the horrors of World War I; people who faced those horrors went home and recreated those horrors as wildly absurd comedy. 
He gave us this poetry prompt, asked us to write poems about some unusual current events. I got the story of the man stuck inside the ATM. I'm no poet, god knows, but I don't hate what I came up with.

I only wanted to withdraw money
I didn't intend to withdraw other people's problems. 
You think you've got it bad, huh,
being stuck inside an ATM?
Way I see it you are the one 
sitting on a pile of money,
whining about "oh poor me,
I'm stuck in a big box of money."
And I tell you what, Mister Woe Is Me,
I have to WORK for my money
Yeah, so people have to work for what they've got.
Unlike you
sitting on a pile of cash talking about "oh poor me", "oh I'm stuck in here with all this money," "boo hoo I've been here for hours and I'm running out of oxygen." 
Whining about "let me out."
Well I'll tell you what, Mister Money Box,
I never had anything handed to me my entire life
cept this note.
cept other people's problems.


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