You said I should stop
writing poems about
one armed waitresses,
truck drivers, net menders,
greasy people in factories, and
with a roll of your eyes--
The South.

Just because you shaved
your head and not your legs
didn't make you a poet,
Suburb Girl.

I ran into you last week
at the grocery store.
You carry a briefcase,
have a cute little bob
hair do and you
don't write much but
are on tenure track and
can quote all the classics.

Of course, there were
grits in my shopping cart.
I've got a crappy day job
and I'm still writing poems
about a Vietnam vet named
Gator and a shrimp boat
captain with a glass eye.

But now, I'm much more
poetic, because I can
incorporate foreign
phrasing into my
line breaths.
Pissez au loin, fille riche.
Piss off, rich girl.
I've got a truck driver
to write about.  
To The Chick In A Workshop Circa 1995
Who Said Real Poets Don't Write About Truck Drivers
                                                      -Julie Buffaloe-Yoder
"Trucks at the Dairy Delite"
(c)Eric Howell
Main Menu