April is poetry month, right?

A conversation from this morning concerning tomorrow’s B-52’s concert
A dialog poem, by Amanda Ching

Me: Shake that cosmic thing
Kid: No.
Me: Shake that thing.
Kid: No.
Me: Shake it.
Kid: No.
Me: Shake it.
Kid: No.
Me: Oh yeah.
Kid: O_o
Me: Shake that thing all night long.
Kid: (BACKING AWAY)
Me: Shake it man, can’t go wrong.
Kid: (edging towards the door)
Me: Don’t let it rest on the president’s desk.
Kid: (runs out towards the bus stop)
Me: (shouting after her) ROCK THE HOUSE.
Basement troll: I don’t need no earthquake
Coffee cup: Don’t need no tidal wave.
Kitten: Til night falls and day breaks.
Sofa cushions: I’m gonna shake shake shake shake shake shake shake.
Me: Jesus, that IS creepy.
Ceiling Spider: That song’s about Ladybird Johnson.
Me: No shit?
Boba Fett Poster: Trufax.

 

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About Amanda Ching

I write. Fo' you.
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