While at the Coffee Shoppe
I once wrote a poem- a very beautiful, poignant one- and then gave it to this supposed poet. I told him, “put that in your pipe and smoke it.” He proceeded to crumble up my poem and then put it into his pipe and then he, naturally, smoked it. He certainly showed me, but I must admit: writing a poem on a dried leaf of tobacco was not the best idea.
I then wrote a poem- a very different, but still beautiful and poignant one- and gave it to yet another supposed poet. I told him, “how do you like the taste of that?” Having read the previous paragraph, you can imagine what he did next: he ate the poem. However, this time, it was not my folly, for you see, that supposed poet had just eaten a dried tobacco leaf. He became very ill.
4 months ago