THIS IS A POEM 1.20.17

1.20.17


I said: Baby, I wish that I could stop. You know that, don’t you?

She said: If you wanted to stop, you would.

I said: But I do want to, is the thing.

She said: Do you know what words are? Words are farts. Think of what a fart is, what it achieves. That’s exactly what a word is.


I don’t know when this was written. It was a long, long time ago. I found it as part of some notes I’d made about a short story. Comparing words to farts seems profound in some way. Or unbelievably stupid. (Sidenote: I don’t name these things, but a good name for this one might be “He said, She said.” Either that or “The Gospel of Flatulence.”) 

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