I’d rather read a poem than write one.
Instead of feeding off the crumbs on my own plate
I’d rather go foraging into the woods
and see what new exotic mushroom I can taste
Or plump summer fruits hanging alluringly from a branch.
Rather than tread again the familiar pathways of my street
The mind I grew up in,
and finding different ways to say what I know,
I would rather walk the streets of some foriegn city
furrowing my way through unknown avenues
striding wide-eyed down the pavements
and through unfamiliar shopping malls.
I would rather look upon a new face
and get to know the pattern of the freckles
than stare again at the mirror at the inverted image of my own
changed barely from the last time I gazed there
just a few hours ago.
Perhaps a few hairs out of place,
which I could write a few paragraphs on.
More interesting to peer inside the pages of a book
and look at faces I’ve never seen before.
To sit among the sentences and listen,
like sitting at the tables outside a crowded café,
at the conversations going on around me
(of what will become of Lennie
and what’s so curious about that painting)
than talk to myself about my day
or what theory I’ve come up with lately.
I already know what I know
I already think what I think
I want to know what you know
I want to read what I couldn’t write.
Pete’s post-prandial peregrinations proved perverted. Passing playgrounds, passing parks, private parts protruding, people panicked. People picketed Pete’s place, producing printed posters proclaiming “Punish Paedo Pete!”. People’s protests proved popular, proved powerful. People posited Pete possessed P.I.E. pals (previously popular pro-paedophile party). People presumed Pete’s pederasatic pals praised Pete, proclaiming “Pete’s perfect! Promote Pete’s perving!”.
Pause. Ponder Pete’s precise practice: prancing, post-pudding, past places people’s precious poppets populated. Potty? Possibly. Predatory? Pfft! Postulating Pete’s protruding penis predicates Pete’s particular penalty. Pete plodded placidly post particularly packed picnics (prodigious portions; plates presenting pasta, peeled potatoes, pickles, pork). Pete’s packed picnics produced particularly podgy paunches. Pete’s post-picnic paunches pressure pants. Pete’s pants perish. Perished pants produce protruding penises! Pete’s paunch prevents perception! Poor Pete! Pete plodded past parks, past playgrounds pleasantly, proper penis placement precluded. People’s protests possessed precious proof! Pete’s practices? Positively pristine.