Monday, May 22, 2006

Slip

A

fart slipped.

Like a cloud
o'er Midwestern crops

it

enveloped
the
Chicago Hilton
elevator.

My victims

scrambled like eggs

crying
clawing
shoving
punching

each-other

desperate to open the ele-
vator doors.

This, cloud
filled their nostrils

exasperated their senses.

This

colon created chaos
lept like a wounded lion
toward
the hunter.

I
stood
stoic,
platonic,

and without a trace of remorse.

Like a sweet Spring morn'

the cloud I left
left
a
faint
wet
dew

in my boxer-briefs.

8 Comments:

Blogger Eugene said...

This is my greatest poem ever.

May 22, 2006  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I have to agree.

May 22, 2006  
Anonymous Chicago Hilton Elevator Passenger said...

*snf* *snf*

Oh, my LORD! It's like someone SHAT OUT AN ENTIRE DUMP TRUCK FULL OF ROTTEN INDIAN FOOD IN HERE!

Let me out! Let me OUT!

HELLLLLLLLPPPPP!!!

May 22, 2006  
Anonymous Other Elevator Passenger said...

*BBBBLLLLOOOORRRRPPPPPP*

You could show some remorse, at least.

May 22, 2006  
Blogger Eugene said...

Thank you for trying to recreate the mastery of horror I inflicted in that Chicago Hilton elevator.

It brings back such wonderful memories.

I live without regret, you know.

May 22, 2006  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Well, it's obvious that you live WITH stained drawers.

Sharter.

May 23, 2006  
Anonymous The Towel Rack said...

Why don't you write about ME anymore?

Are you ashamed of me, now?

May 23, 2006  
Blogger Eugene said...

I live without shame, also.

Begone, towelrack. I have a meeting with my Parole Officer, and like my friend Deroy Murdock, "Patron Saint" of GWiMMRN, I don't have time to respond to your false accusations.

May 23, 2006  

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