Today's poem is by Chad Reynolds


In days of yore, et cetera, good guys traveled
on ropes, a tradition comic book heroes
won't let go of, always swinging
to rob the rich, feed the et cetera.
I'm planting a telescoping pole
on my back porch: on top, a steel wire
down which to slide into your window,
where you most certainly don't expect

a slight, bearded man without a cape,
but probably won't turn me away
since I've made an entry worthy of Flynn,
into your apartment where nothing
Zsa Zsa ever happens, except Sex and the City.
You tell your friends you want to be swept
off your feet. Here's your chance. I'll sweep you
off your feet and into a stranger's apartment.

We'll eat strange food, and watch strange T.V.
until commercials tell us to clean ourselves
with brand name products. Think we should?
I'm almost a brand name product: my name's
Chad: I'm my own country in Africa.
I'm the pink square on all the maps.

Copyright © 2007 Chad Reynolds All rights reserved
from Redivider
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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