From The Death Of The Last Minor Poet In Minnesota. (After Bukowski) Poem by r james sterzinger

This morning
While I was
Walking the dog,
A birdy in a short
Black dress, a
Red coat with
Black knee high boots
Approached me.

I walked by
Crossed at the crosswalk
Came up the block.

She must of thought I was a pervert,
A terrorist,
A Republican or a stalker
I guess.

Because...
She ran up the knoll
Across the parking lot
To get away.

Honey, take it easy,
I thought.
I'm relatively harmless.

You see...
I'm the last minor poet of
Minnesota.

I'm just
Out here
To pick up
Inspiration,
And dog do-do
And get away
From my wife.
Who doesn't understand me
Anymore than you do.