Poetry

On our way to see the New Orleans Cottonmouth Kings, I found a man sitting in the middle of the cold street with a typewriter. The sign taped on the typewriter said, "Fresh Poems While You Wait". I stopped and asked if I could take his picture.

"Sure. Thanks for asking by the way. The other tourists just don't bother to ask and I have to bark at them because it's just impolite."
"Oh but do you mind?"
"Yeah no. I mean it'd be better if people just gave me the money, but you can take my picture."
"Oh I'd like your poetry. How does this work?"
"Right. So you give me a theme, and I'll make you a poem, and then you pay."
"Okay. Then make me a poem on.... 'impoliteness'"
"Oh that's a great one."

And the man made me this poem in two minutes flat:

"Polite-ness"

oversensitive america
we complain and whine

i am pissed off or sad.
and yet, what of
please and thank you..

used to death,
tools of five year olds.

i once taught a women

hello and please
and she became much
more popular on the farm

so polite and nice
but i prefer
new england brashness..

and a nice tone of voice
to retain
a spectacle of civility

M Hayden
Dec 28 2009
Frenchmen St.