Michael Philips Poems
I set off a stink bomb
At the art opening of bad art.
It was funny how everyone started
Looking around as if they
Would somehow be able to see the smell.
People began fanning their faces
With their programs and an Asian
Woman actually held her nose.
When they discovered I was the culprit
They roughly escorted me out
Of the gallery and the owner told me what I
Did was adolescent and stupid.
I said the smell was only bad
In his subjective mind – who’s to say what’s
A good smell and what’s a bad smell? But
He had already gone
Back inside to help ...
Our calendars were rivers
Swollen with wedding cakes.
We slept through tunes like All Of Me
Or “All The Cheese, ” our drummer smirked.
But I knew I could never walk.
Mrs. Wing my junior high music teacher
Would appear before me as an apparition,
Breaking her baton on my stand,
Demanding to know what I was doing