I'll read one more from this manuscript.
This is a poem I wrote for Dave Etter, an Illinois
poet and friend.
I dedicated it to him, not out of sentiment,
but out of self-defense, because it sounds
a lot like an Etter poem.
Every time I read some of his poems,
I get overly influenced by them.
So I can't read too many of them at one sitting, it takes me
a couple of weeks to flush him out of my system.
I'm very much impressed by some of his stuff.
So I dedicated it to him, believing that I might
escape the plagiarism charge.
So I don't want you to think it's out of goodwill.
It's called "County Fair."
And the girl in it is named Doreen,
and she spells her name D-O-R-E-E-N.
"County Fair."
"At the county fair, I buy Doreen
and me cotton candy and coconut slingshots.
'Make that four cheeseburgers, son, with everything.'
Doreen bets me a silver dollar that I can't outlast her
on the Tilt-a-Whirl.
Everything goes belly-heavy, and pale,
and weak at the knees, including those three
star-spangled teasers at the girlie show.
Doreen tests the silver dollar with her teeth.
'It'll play well enough,' she says, 'even in Peoria.'
And would I mind awfully much buying
her another cheeseburger?
We admire the Kewpies and the geek,
and especially the Poland China, with a swab
of manure the color of broccoli on its bristled cheek.
Doreen's hair, in a long single pigtail,
tastes like salt water taffy.
When she looks at me, I can feel my fists exploding with cash."
[LAUGHTER]
"I want to play roulette with the Ferris wheel.
Shortly after 11:00, I sneak off to piss on a tent stake."
[LAUGHTER]
"At midnight, Doreen snaps her fingers and the music stops.
As the lights go out, I think of kissing her eyes,
so we call in the dogs.
'High time,' she says, 'that we take our crusty, dusty,
spat-upon, barked-at, take it in, beautiful,
sawdust bodies back to home.'"
[APPLAUSE]