quatorzain 512: Meeting the Lizard Poet

He was bathed in the stench of desperation,
reeking of nerves and alcohol, standing
naked in the street, pen in hand and stut-
tering some rant about a world gone mad—
that’s how I met him in theArizona
sun somewhere near Sedona. We toasted
everything with shots of tequila and some
substance more mysterious.          Later, more
sober and less desperate, he asked me
my life story and I told him it was
too droll to tell. “I was born, I lived, and
I’ll die,” he told me sagely. “That’s as
interesting as it gets. Otherwise,
we wouldn’t need fiction and poetry.”

David M Pitchford
24 February 2012


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