Thursday, 16 January 2014

The Prospect of Two Letters and a Certain String in My Pocket

"Signed copies available"
"Signed copies available"
I can only laugh.
These egos beat me in the poetry game by getting published first, selling a few copies and winning competitions - innocent and quirky little girls and passionate but premature little boys - perhaps making a few bob before I appear.
They have a book, I have my kitchen application.
Is it because their work is richer, deeper, more profound?
Because they have spent more time on it, endlessly redraughting it until something worthwhile appears?
Better educated, better people, better artists?
Because the issues they raise are more pertinent to modern existence?
Certainly not, "Signed copies available"
But then I don't know why, certainly I don't.
Is it because certain things are "safe" perhaps "risk-free" and...
...oh, certainly sign a copy for me so that I, a stranger, can look appropriately grateful up to what might be the next big thing. But after you have scrawled your name with abundant ego but little thought, prepare to meet this stranger in the flesh, suddenly, and with a great noise breaking any serenity - from around any dark corner while walking at night, or bursting from any wheelie bin you might be innocently passing in the morning.
signed copies available

No comments:

Post a Comment