useless art

September 28, 2004

The Awful Truth About Billy Collins

She had
talked with
him.

She told me
he was just
doing a schtick,

doing what
other people
liked

because they
liked it,
and he acquired

laurels, accolades,
cultural cache,
popcult ubiquity.

We were on a date,
me and her in
downtown West

Hartford, CT, at an
upscale cafe,
sitting at a crooked

table, and I wanted
to not sweat and
have my water glass

fall over and all that
silly date stuff,
but I know the minute

I rolled my eyes
and clucked
that she wouldn’t call

me back.
And I’m still waiting.

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