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yakkety-yak.

Posted to Poetry




so what do they want to know about me?"

"only the most scandalous details, my love."

"then i suppose I should tell them about you."

"--i'd rather you didn't,"

"come-on, it could be fun-- first i'd describe that look of yours, that look of pain."

"but it's not exactly pain..."

"--but it looks like pain, and that's all we have to go by, really; the appearance of things."

"you know that's a lie."

"do I?"

---------------

make of it what we will,
a foolish
flapping thing--
this (tongue, certainly).

---------------

"actually I hate rehashing our bullshit on a page, everything seems smaller here--"

"oh? is somebody feeling... a little... inadequate?"

"hahaha, bring it back to that why don't you, sure, sex, let's have it right here, let's spread-it-on so thick
no one could ever tell where the power ends and weakness begins,"

"ooh, now I've really got you going, eh? finally put enough lead in your pencil--"

"and what would I write then? life, life, life again?
perhaps I could call it the Sweet Fruit of Sin."

--------------------

("you should really stop referrencing Joyce, honey--
it seems like too much of an in-joke..."

("I was thinking In/Out, actually--"

("yes, I could tell. but it seems honest enough otherwise. and the second person, is that supposed to be me?")

----------------------

and what part's the reader supposed
to play in all of this?

----------------------

"now we zoom-out, and we see the writer himself,"

"blah. who really cares about the writer, it's the
story that matters."

"but what if it's a story about a writer?"

"boring story."

----------------------

("and if you're going to mention Joyce, you might as well
add the name of Calvino; you're borrowing more from him
than anyone else."

("I borrowed a bit from you also, of course"

("now who are you trying to charm?")

-----------------------

JOE, SCRATCHING HIS CHIN, HOLDING THE TEXT IN HAND:
"I dunno man, it seems like you could have tried
a bit harder. how long did you spend on this, anyway?"

MAX: "about twenty minutes. I'm a busy man, Joe."

JOE: "but don't you think you owe something to your audience? character, plot, conflict, resolution--"

MAX: "the only thing I owe around here is the next
pint of Guinness."

JOE: "still... you should give them something."

MAX: "hell, I've given them a few decent lines, and
maybe the feeling they've been There, Elsewhere... Whatever That Is--"

JOE: "you can't cheat the reader out of a resolution--"

MAX: "what, you mean how the story ends? fine, fuck it,
I break the girl's heart."

JOE, FLIPPING THROUGH THE PAGES: "and another thing--
the girl, who's she supposed to be?"

MAX: "I dunno. Could be anyone, I guess."