SHE DIDN'T GET ME (prose poem)

[Anthony Venutolo]

Have you ever been to the airport and maybe saw a passionate couple in the throws of some juicy argument? While the voyeur in you wants to say "To Hell with the flight," you fake tying your shoe so you can see what these two wackjobs are screaming about... This prose poem is one of those instances.

SHE DIDN’T GET ME
She said why aren’t you coming?
I told her that we’d be a mistake,
a nightmare in fact.
Pleading in the airport, at the gate,
she clutched and clutched;
weeping and kept on repeating
that she didn’t understand.
I felt bad, even worse than
that, but shit, what was there
not to understand? I just wasn’t
feeling this broad anymore. And you know
what, it wasn’t even about sex. Shit, that’s
the
furthest
thing on my mind at that point. She didn’t
get me and brother, I mean it
when I say to you that if they don’t get you,
run, man.
Run fucking far away. Don’t even tie your shoes.
I had to find out the hard way.
A chick that doesn’t get
you is about as dangerous as someone
you loathe who DOES. Take it from me, no
matter how blue her eyes gleam or perfect her
complexion is, beauty fades. Picture yourself
talking to this cupcake in 20 or 30
when she looks like busted suitcase. Ask
her questions now that will be
relevant
later.
And then think of me, here today,
at the airport, hoping to escape.

[Kate Gordon]

Actually, now that I've listed to Waits on your page (Franks Wild Years), I can almost hear you speaking this piece with jazz piano in the background... :)

[Kate Gordon]

I think this is perfect. He's doing the right thing, even if it's hard for us to hear how he comes to that conclusion. Sometimes I just don't want to know what he's really thinking.

[Anthony Venutolo]

Funny, Marti...

[MartiW]

btw - yesterday morning I was having my usual coffee/Messenger chat with Lori and in response to her comment about my mildly interesting adventures of the previous day and I wrote "...He doesn't get me." To which she immediately replied "Ha, go read Anthony on Six right now."

[Daniel]

Wow, how'd I miss this one? You got em' Anthony! I'd be hard pressed to get away with this angle. But... Now I wanna try. From cupcake to busted suitcase baby, thats the... Oops still in my own voice, catch ya later.

[Pamila Payne]

This piece has that car wreck by the side of the road, hold your interest details and right in it realness. I'm with the guy, someone who doesn't get you, will drag you down under the muck of their own unfulfilled swamp and you'll both strangle in blame. Better to cut and run, even as you say, without shoes.

[Olive Rosehips]

and I hate flipflops. not that it's relevant ;)

[Anthony Venutolo]

Thanks, O ... I think you got the point. the guy comes off like a cad inwardly since we hear his inner thoughts which were a tad cheauvanistic (sp) ... but perhaps outwardly he's really trying to do her a solid (him, too...)

[Olive Rosehips]

and I would love to tell that woman how he's doing her a favor.

[Olive Rosehips]

this is...something.
Something a Frank would say
"Picture yourself
talking to this cupcake in 20 or 30
when she looks like busted suitcase " I'm so tempted to respond to the son of a gun in your story and tell him that in 20 or 30 years he will have a suitcase, too. Then I remind myself that this is a story which apparently is well written since i am yelling at it.