Monday, April 13, 2009

my bad

social experiments at dive bars

play the wounded zebra, leave
the herd, expose your soft belly
to the starved alert. they’ll circle
salivating, hackles raised, snapping
at each competitor’s throat, almost
pissing themselves in eagerness.
feign weakness until their
nostrils are full of the scent of you,
dizzy with laughter they’ll lunge
in for the kill, find a swift kick
instead, slink off to lick. appeased, sip
your free drinks, wait until the next
ragged lot approach the water hole.

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For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem that incorporates a hobby (either yours or someone else's). That's right: Now is the perfect opportunity to write about your comic collection or your scrapbooking activities. And for the purposes of this challenge, I also think activities such as fishing, running, bowling, photography, birding, and gardening count as hobbies.
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I find it perfectly acceptable that my hobby is sometimes fucking with people at bars. It keeps things entertaining.

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