Bonus! Bad poetry! To the Dude on the corner....

I feel like writing bad poetry. Here's one for you now:

TO THE DUDE IN FRONT OF THE

FRIEND OF THE COURT BUILDING

Today, walking to my job carrying a mighty

Jimmy John’s submarine

or grinder

or sammich (what have you)

I passed a guy on a cellphone.

He was just an average guy

in baggy jeans

with the rim of his boxershorts showing...

like a little secret saying “Hi there!”

I walked past you

and you watched me

and I heard you say into the phone

loud as a breaking plate

“Man, will you stop being an A-hole.”

You, tough man, said A-hole.

Then I passed and stood on the corner

and I could still hear your words

“I said A-hole, man. What do you mean

what’s an A-hole? It’s an ASS hole. You’re

being an ASS hole. I just didn’t want to say it

just then.”

I smiled as I crossed the street,

scent of sammich wafting up.

I think you said A-hole for my benefit,

reminding me that perhaps somewhere out there

someone still thinks

I

am a tender flower.

Thank you, dude. Thank you.