I’m a bit busy working this week. So, I’ve pulled out a poem from Bagman’s file cabinet. Bagman’s file cabinet, of course, has no files in it and no file drawers. It is turned on its back where he just tosses papers and things into the open holes where the file drawers used to be.
BAGMAN: “I thought you were too busy to write a blog. If you’re going to use one of my poems, go ahead and use it. But stop whining and go do whatever it is that’s more important that blogging.”
The first time my wife,
who read about it in the Post,
sent me to the free prostate screening,
I decided to see what the minivan would do
if I stopped giving a shit
and kept it on the floor ‘til the motor blew.
The answer was a hundred and thirty seven
where it screamed, rattled,
and floated across the road like bumper cars
at the county fair.
But no cops saw so I stopped
at an overlook and peed over the side
into the valley below.
When I got back she asked
if everything had gone all right.
“Just fine,” I said.