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Click hereThe group stationed at the bar
on an amiable Friday night
discusses their ideal breakfast.
"Piece of wheat toast, with butter
and my grandma's blackberry preserves,"
says Janet. There is a discussion
of family recipes and perfect mornings.
Tina's mom makes jalapeno jelly;
Perry's grandmother's apple butter
won contests.
"Anything I wanted?" says Ralph,
"Steak, fried eggs, hash browns, and a beer."
Everyone laughs. I realize
that I'm probably the only one in the place
who knows what a kipper is,
and that for some reason this
makes me believe for a moment that I
am somehow better than
the people around me.
God's voice
comes like a thunderclap
in my head. He says to me,
"Fuck you."
Loved the punchline! Taking Leon to one side though and forcibly explaining the Englishness of kippers for breakfast!
Your poem I enjoyed until I came to a section that seems very out of place; it makes no sense at all.
"and that for some reason this"
I attempted to read it several different ways, but is still garbled, still wrong.
But yes, the ending is good, just do not rely on that sort of ending for all your work or you will be come predictable bijou, ROFL
The conversational language - so refreshing; the self deprecating humor - so appealing. In hindsight the contrast between the language in the poem and the lofty 'mea culpa' at the poem's title is both humorous and subtly preparing the ground for the divine intervention at the end...<P>
Hallelujah! I say to those who brave humor (dry or not) through the daily and the mundane, even more so for those who find it in our faults.
Bijou, this poem will stay with me for a really long time. I guarantee it. Compact, precise, and sardonic in just the sorts of ways that bring joy to my snarky little heart. It's not always easy to strike that line between seriousness and a playful punch; most people are forced to choose. But you can hit both simultaneously. Marvelous.